59.

JANNY WURTS.

press~ "Liege, let me help," Jieret begged.

"Find him a blanket," Dakar ordered, terse, then through his things, and snatched out linen strips and tied a wrap over Arithon's gashed hand. "Idiot," he murmured. "You 4 that damned blade like a butcher. Got tendons laid bare. When~ bleeding's controlled, you'll need to be sewn, or risk scarring~ ma"YM7r yur music'" i throat isn't cut. I can sing." Arithon lilted a slurred line doggerel taken from a dockside ballad. Then, as Jieret bent down swaddle him in wool, his maundering humor fled before desper~ focus. "Why are you here?" he demanded. A deep tremor racked If He locked his teeth through the spasm, then ground on in unsw~ ing logic, "Had that parchment reached your hand in Rath Dakar's right. Caolle could have refuted those charges." , "My liege, not now." Jieret scarcely noticed the tug as D~ snatched the blanket from his fist. "The other news that brought n can wait."

"Ah, no!" Arithon shoved off the wool the Mad Prophet sought drape over him. His eyes raked up, fever bright. "I won't have ~ sleep spell you've slipped through the weave." He shot to his fee restored to command through animate, blistering irritation. "By y0u oath as caithdein, Jieret, speak."

The moment hung, its tension spun out in maniacal wind and ~ distanced percussion of thunder. Leaked droplets pattered under th~ sailcloth. The torch spat and hissed, fingered by drafts until ever shadow seemed crawlingly alive. Black haired, baleful, Arith~ waited, his presence stillness incarnate. He was not a patient mar The fretted, willful energy he used to avert collapse seemed nurse from a leashed spark of violence, as if his heart's peace had bee razed off in Vastmark, to leave a core of acid-etched steel.

Jieret quailed before apprehension. This was no stranger he c0~ fronted, but his crown prince, scarred and haunted by the tria brought down by the Mistwraith's dire curse. The spring's prophet dream lodged too vividly in recall, with its wrenching potential f~ tragedy. The vision was terrifying, final: the wide square paved: brick, centered by its cordon of guardsmen and the unpainted rise the scaffold, pennoned in the dazzling glitter of gold cord and su wheel banners. His very pulse seemed to throb to the chant packed onlookers. He shook off the mesmerizing hold of remer brance, in thought or utterance unwilling to grapple the silver-brig length of the executioner's sword, then the scream of this sa~ prince, fallen.

6O.

FUGITIVE I~RINCE.

"I had an augury on your Grace's life," he rasped, tom by his need to be finished.

"Oh, how merry!" Arithon exclaimed, sardonic. "My fate's already wound in auguries like tripping strings. No. Don't plod through the hysterical details. Let me have just the bare facts."

"You must listen!" cried Jieret, frightened by the dismissal. "After the slaughter at Tal Quorin, would you take my gifted dreams lightly?"

"But I don't." Unrepentant, Arithon accepted a blanket from Dakar that was combed free of furtive seals to bring sleep. He flicked the wool across his wet frame, winced as he fumbled a one-handed clasp, then stepped back to forestall more assistance. "I can manage. Am doing so, in fact. Your Sight does run true, more's the pity. But for the sake of Rathain, I'd have preferred to be spared the unnecessary favor. As my oathsworn caithdein, your presence here can't improve my wretched odds of surviving." He spun, tripped over the stool in a startling turn of spoiled grace. "Now give me the details without any melodrama."

"The time seemed high summer," Jieret resumed, ferociously bland. "A public execution, under town auspice, with every appro- priate trapping."

"How splendid and trite. How predictable!" Arithon gasped back shrilling laughter. Perhaps goaded on by his caithdein's sharp recoil, he bit back like salt in a sore, "All right, my sworn lord, your duty's been met to the last grasping letter of the law. By kingdom charter, I've been properly tried and warned. Now for love of the realm, you are free. Return to Rathain. The fishing sloop that brought you sails tomorrow for Carithwyr on my personal orders. Her captain was told to expect you on board. You will cross High King Eldir's neutral realm of Havish to reach your homeland, and avoid another tangle with Tysan's headhunters."

"Go," Dakar urged, cued by a mix of dread and epiphany, since every shred of bad news out of Tysan would have emerged through that prior exchange with the fishermen. Arithon was not sanguine for very good reason, beside being too spent to cope. The Mad Prophet grabbed Jieret's elbow, wide-eyed and imploring. "Come away. What you're seeing's not temper, but a mannerless plea to be alone."

The clansman stayed fixed, his bleak, considered aze upon the motionless form of his prince. He looked as if he miht speak.

The Mad Prophet plued his ears, shut his eyes, and crined like a do that expected a kick.

61.

~ANNY ~URTS.

Yet Jieret held silent. When no explosion came from the under the blanket, the spellbinder cracked one eye open.

"For mercy's sake, Dakar, just get him out," Arithon hoarse, deadened misery.

Like an obedient, fat ninepin bowling down a young oak, the Prophet plowed Rathain's young caithdein into prudent through the doorway.

62.

Summer 5648 Close Confidence The squall passed. Above the swept rocks of .the fortress at Corith, stars emerged from the cloud cover Sea winds combed the headland and slapped through the sailcloth roofed over the ruined north drum keep. Bronzed by the smoking stub of the oil cresset lit to treat Arithon's hand, Dakar sat awake, keeping watch. Long since, the spooled silk and needles used to close up the gash had been tidied and put away. On the pallet, stone quiet, the Teir's'Ffalenn lay sprawled in exhausted sleep.

The Mad Prophet listened to the call of the night-flying owl, mournful between the irregular tap of twine lacings. He waited, alert for the moment of inevitable aftermath. No man mentioned the Havens inlet in the Shadow Master's hearing that dreams did not come and goad the prince screaming from sleep. Grateful that fore- sight had seen Lord Jieret dismissed before the inevitable backlash, Dakar settled his chin on plump wrists.

An hour passed, uneventful. The night smelled of puddled rock, mingled near at hand with the astringent bite of medicinal herbs.

Gusts thrummed sighing through the cedars down the slope, cut by the whistle of a sentry, come back from the headland to roust his relief watch. Dakar traced out a fine rune. His trained talent as spellbinder raised an appeal to the air, then bent the element's given consent to work a small construct of deflection. When the sailor just wakened in the compound raised a noisy string of complaint, no ripple of distur- bance crossed the line of soft conjury to upset Arithon's rest.

63.

Somewhere in the thickets a fox barked. The arced across the black zenith, their dance unchanged turies since man first inhabited Athera. Against their seasonal mony, a whispered rustle of discord: on the pallet, one hand spasreed closed. The Master of Shadow curled into a huddle and loosed a harsh breath through his teeth.

Dakar crossed to the pallet. He murmured a cantrip to his inner strength in the ageless stone of the headland.

Arithon moaned, twisted sidewards, and thrashed, he slighter man's shoulder. He caught the fist that snapped up his chin, winced for the abuse to new bandages, then pressed in firm restraint. The prince he resisted might be sorrowfully but his struggles were inventive and difficult. Dakar required~ force to prevail. He turned the sharp s'Ffalenn features into blankets and stifled the rising, agonized groan into the bedding.

"Wake," he murmured. "Arithon, throw off the dream and, back." He barbed each word in spell-turned clarity. "This is and everyone is safe."

Dakar waited, spoke again. He absorbed the next redoubled, blind fight as the Shadow Master tried to bludgeon Against his undignified need to cry out, the Mad Prophet held stoa fast, until the corded tension under his hands dissolved throug~ spasm of transition. The Teir's'Ffalenn in his care passed from ni mare into living remembrance of a horror no passage of time miI erase. Then, as often happened, Dakar waited, silent, while the M ter of Shadow softly wept. g~ The cresset by then had dwindled to a coal. Rinsed by ruby li the Mad Prophet stayed his sympathy, while Rathain's crown prino cocked an elbow and pushed himself upright. The single-handed ~ to slip pursuit from the mainland had worn him. The resilience hey recovered since Vastmark had abraded further in the months spe~ ashore. Terrors of guilt and conscience dulled the green eyes tha regarded Dakar through the gloom, left them lusterless as sea battered glass. The expressive, fine bones of the Masterbard's hah rested slack on the coverlet, bundled flesh sapped of small grace.

"Daelion Fatemaster forgive me for the way I treated Jieret," we~ the first words the Shadow Master said. He looked fevered. Minut~ passed as he steadied his breathing, and his high, sweating flush su]

sided back into pallor. "He is Rathain's true caithdein, courage ar honor to his core. So like his father, he's become. Does he know eve yet what he means to me? Should he take harm from Lysaer's mi ['hen, as ~ped the toward d down ly thin, d main ~to the Jdle of ] COlTIe Zorith, ght of FtlGITI~E I)RINCE called judgments, I don't think I could stand it. Let Dharkaron Avenger redress his wronged feelings. I had to send him back to his peo- ple."

"You did right," Dakar soothed. "Lord Jieret will go, and soon after, the Khetienn will sail."

An interval passed without speech. Arithon tipped back his tan- gled head and rested against the worn stone of the bastion. The steep, angled features of his ancestry carved sharper in the uncertain scrawl of deep shadows. "If Cattrick succeeds, we'll have ships," he mur- mured, his ongoing effort to control his fraught nerves sketched in pained creases arotmd his eyes. "The clans can be taken to safety. We 0nly have to find the Paravians." His hope was a refuge from the drive of Desh-thiere's curse behind the strong wardspells that masked them.

In the dimness, Dakar averted his face. Ill practiced at patience, he fiddled with his sleeve cuffs, then launched on a sharp change in sub- ject. "What will you do about Jieret's new augury?"

"Ignore it, unless the Khetienn's search fails." Arithon's bitterness scraped through like old rust. "What can I do anyway? My mage- sight's still blind. Given your help, I couldn't even scry through to find a sane outcome in Vastmark. Ath knows, since that blunder, naught's changed."

"Stop," Dakar snapped. "You can't let your past write the future."

Like ill omen, the fading last flame in the torch dipped to an ember and died. This moment, Dakar found no comfort in darkness. "Right now you would do best by sleeping," he advised.

An oath ripped back in sharp, precise syllables. Bedding rustled.

Arithon settled prostrate on the cot. His limbs did not move, but through mage-sight, Dakar sensed his eyes were still open. When an hour passed, and his needling conscience kept him wakeful, he loosed a soft word in resignation.

The spidered threads of the spell already prepared between Dakar's hands enfolded his consent on a thought. The wide, tortured gaze became masked by the sweep of black lashes. Tight breath'rag steadied. Arithon s'Ffalenn relaxed fully at last, the unquiet gnaw of his lacerated spirit eased back into dreamless rest.

Weary, aching, the Mad Prophet arose from long vigil. He shuffled his way to the keep's narrow doorway, and in the drawing pull of the earth through his bone marrow, measured the interval before dawn.

Another figure bulked dark alongside the drum tower's threshold.

Lord Jieret lay curled there, his great sword at hand, and his hawk features set in repose. A contradictory tautness knit through his body

65.

~ANNY ~URTS.

warned of the fact he was wakeful. Dakar chose not t~ stepped out, his intent to seek solitude and settle drawn n heights overlooking the sea.

A grip like fixed iron trapped his ankle. He tripped,, and bit back an outraged howl as his cheek slapped into dle. Then outcry became moot. Rathain's cait/~dein roll, fe]led form and pinned him facedown in the dirt. A prec vised his nape and a knife bit a slanting, cold line across t skin of his throat. Dakar gasped. Contact with the blade jolt of misery through his mage-sense. The kept steel of i shrilled with the strung resonance of despair, dark imprin prince's blood oath.

"Jieret/' he grunted. "For pity, let up."

"Ath, you've a fine sense of arrogance to try and keep ~ liege's confidence!" But the hold loosened. The ugly t~ knife blade lifted. Lord Jieret backed off and squatted on h while his victim rolled upright and swiped a slurry of grh beard.

"You were eavesdropping," the Mad Prophet accused, [ "Aye, and where else does any caithdein sleep, but acros prince's threshold?" Met by affront, the clan chieftain cough of laughter behind his wrist. "Dharkaron's immort you forget. My forefathers were standing down test princes while yours were still pissing in swaddling bands.

Dakar blotted his moist face with napped cuffs, spat gritty, and forcibly noosed back his temper. "You cot helped. And your suspicions are wasted. I'm no 1onge enemy."

"Does that even signify?" Jieret snicked his knife back sheath, careful to damp the steel silent. "I sat with my li~ the night when my people died for him at Tal Quorin. Ag~ he was forced to burn the trade fleet at Minderl Bay. I've s weeps for the nightmares. I know his fear, that the ones 1~ love will lose their lives." All purpose, he finished, "My stand at his side. Caith d'ein, shadow behind the throne."

"I'm unlikely to test his given will on that matter," said wants you safely back in Rathain. And he's right. You ca his realm from the uncharted sea aboard his brigantine."

Jieret looked away through .a tigerish pause, the jut ol outthrust against the film of fine mist. "What do you knc aren't saying, prophet?"

"Fiends plague, your whole line was bred to be diffic eak, but ~S on the ~ed fiat, ~d pud- v~, r his y hand FUGITIVE I~RINCE.

p~0~ ~ n~'4~,) ~tt. "%~%'~ ~,,x ~~ ~, ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~k~ a long walk. ~e roc~ here are practiced at ~m~mg themselves, and your Vxege is secure. I set wards."

~e clan cMef rose also, his oiled s~ide shortened to pace the Mad Prophet's bobbling progress. ~e ~ikely pair crossed the com- pound, cap,red in mismatched reflecfon through the silver-plate scatter~g of puddles. Beyond the gapped walls, ~e cliff path lay fog- bound, shadowed in ~e refrain of wild surf hewing ~e obdurate sh0rel~e.

~en the sai~and huddled wakeful by the notch to ~e harbor hiled to challenge ~eir passage, Jieret raised g~ge~ eyebrows.

"You've set spells of concealment? ~at do you fear? Or do you already ~ow ~om the Fellows~p ~rcerers that Ari~on's course carries risk?"

"Da~ you for berg your mo~er's son after all. She always guessed fir too much." Dakar snatched an irritable swat at Ms nape where a bloodsuck~g ~sect had bitten. "I share some wider ~owl- edge from ~vir of Al~a~, and Arithon as well, s~ce ~e Paravi~ charts he was ~ven to steer by were lent for ~s use by ~e ~rcerer."

~e Mad Prophet stalled, hopeM1, w~le ~e grate of ~s ~ead over chipped rock and gravel silenced crickets, ~d the ~st silted droplets in his hair. Jieret ranged beside ~m, his p~er's s~de soldless, and his expectancy taut as s~g wire.

"Shark," Dakar ripped out. "~e taste of blood, you keep circl~g."

He swiped past the dripp~g boug~ of a cedar ~d resumed wigout apology for his comp~ion's adroit duck to avoid a slap in the chest.

"Ve~ well, yes, there's more danger than you ~ow, even granted your heritage as clanblood." ~e Mad Prophet fo~d a boulder, damp but sheltered from ~e wind. He sat to expla~ ~e gift of ~e grand ea~ l~k ceded to ~e ~rcerer ~thvir by Athera's last guardian cen- taur.

"~e ne~ork ties ~e ~rcerer's consciousness to eve~tMng on A~era, animate life or still ma~er. But ~e ~ven have pos~lated ~e c0~ection may hold selec~ve bl~d spots. Its weave could be subject t0 guarding wards set by ~e old races ~emselves." Dakar stabbed fleshy f~gers toward ~e masked edge of ~e horizon. "~e evidence lies ~ dehult. ~e Paravi~s appear to have v~shed from A~'s cre- ation. And yet, though d~shed, ~rough s~ands and deep au~ries, ~eir presence s~11 fi~res ~ the weave of Athera's life pat- tern."

Simple words, to frame ~is world's penultimate royster. Dakar paused in sorrowM1 reflection, his brows snarled down above ~s pug JANNY ~URT$.

nose, and his chin bristled out beneath his beard. What arcane acts of scrying might yet be uncovered by a manned tion. The oceans girdled the far side of the world, immensely vastl wide. If an isle existed, wrapped under wards, or some hidden, ~ haven lurked on the shores of the far continent, Arithon would~ sail in the Khetienn to seek.

"Your prince hopes to beg sanctuary from the Mistwrai~h's !~ curse," Dakar ended. "That scarcely offers much hope for your cla: but the Fellowship Sorcerers agree, Paravian protection of~'~r~: surest possibility of reprieve."

Broad-shouldered as a sentinel against drifting mist, Jiere~ ~tari out to sea. "The Fellowship Sorcerer, Ciladis, set off on that q~ almost two centuries past. He has never come back."

"Nobody argues the choice harbors peril!" Dakar snapperS, ~?

old races have no desire to be found, else their presence w~l~.

known to Sethvir." He paused, choked silent by memories v~,r'~ i~ left alive could understand: of the awesome, pure grace of ti~: ~ corns dancing, that could sear sight to blindness from too te~-vi~ie surfeit of ecstasy. His very marrow ached for the deep, dr~'~z peace of a centaur's presence, or the lyrical harmonies in a su~:~ii~ song. These mysteries, once experienced, could draw mortal ~v ~d~..

forget food and drink, and waste away, lost, until the spirit ~,~s0~ the body, lured beyond all common things of earth.

Aggrieved beyond words for the loss done the world by the. l~ar~ vians' passing, Dakar was jerked back to the trials of the pre~:~t ~.

Jieret's harsh grip on his wrists. "Take care of my liege. By rn~,. i~I~ as caithdein, see him happy and secure, or bring him back whoi~.. Ei~ by Dharkaron's bleak vengeance, I will scour the world's fou~ ~a: ters to find you, and make sure you suffer my judgment."

Dakar gave a raw, hooting chuckle. "That threat cuts both way!

you barbarian wolf. To harry me for my failures, you must first sta'

alive, and free of a galley slave's coffie." He shrugged, disengage~ from the clan chieftain's hold, and heaved his short bulk off the b0~ der. Around them, the last of the dark was fast fading. Gulls screarne~ above the jumbled, gray crags, and the knifing wind wore the srneli of seawrack and salt. Dakar clasped his arms to ward off the chi'~ while the charcoal sky brightened and limned his stout form againsti lucent pearl backdrop. "Go where your heart calls. The sleep $pell~ left won't hold in full sunlight. Your liege will wake and feel reste~ He'll want to see your face and be sure you are well before the h0~ comes to sail. Give him that much, for the journey he embarks 0t could easily span the next decade."

68.