Tobar set Sara down next Zeynel’s bedroll. The old man lay still, his silver hair spread on the pillow forming a halo around his serene face. Sara knelt beside him and stroked his pale cheek. It was the soft texture of the very young or the very old. Tears blurred her vision before she blinked them away. Not again. The pain of losing her grandfather had begun to fade to an ache; she wasn’t ready to lose someone else close to her. Anger fought the pain in her chest. I won’t lose him.
Gently, Sara pulled down Zeynel’s coverings to expose his wound. His torso was a mass of blue and purple smudges as if someone had used it as a canvas to paint a thunderstorm. Sara leaned closer. His breath blew her hair in rapid but feeble movements. His heart raced beneath the thin skin of his chest. Sara prodded his distended abdomen, wincing as she applied gentle pressure to the battered flesh then lifted the bandages. The wound stretched from the middle of his stomach to disappear around his side, a mound of stitched and angry red flesh. Sara closed her eyes. No. Please, no. She needed her bag. If only she hadn’t been wounded... Her mind raced with possible treatments, things she could have done, until the weight of hopelessness pulled her head down and she rested it in her hands. There was nothing she could do then or now.
He’d known. She didn’t know how, but he’d known. He had tried to tell her goodbye and she’d shrugged it off. We can be sentimental after this is over. Her own words mocked her. “I’m sorry.” She stroked hair from his forehead. “Please, Zeynel, don’t go.”
If there is a way...
Ilydearta. She pulled the stone from beneath her tunic. “Find me a way.”
The stone’s hum faltered, became erratic. A dissonance spread through her limbs. Sara shook her head and closed her eyes. “I will heal him.” The dissonance became a pain that she welcomed.
An image began to form only to be shattered by a gentle touch on her arm. She opened her eyes. Zeynel’s grip was weak, but his gaze steady.
“No.” The word was a merely an exhalation of breath.
Sara shook her head as tears filled her eyes.
His blue eyes softened. “That path is not yours.” He closed his eyes.
“Zeynel.” Sara stroked his face. She needed him. He couldn’t leave her. How could he leave her? She looked up. Tobar watched, his expression guarded.
“I can’t... I won’t...”
“Shh, Healer. Sometimes, no words are necessary.” He took her in his arms.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“Healer?”
Sara glanced from to Zeynel’s still frame to the shadow in the doorway of the tent. “Yes?”
“How is he?” Chavi approached and her scent, the fragrance of a flower, drifted before her. She seemed hesitant, timid.
“Alive.” Barely. Sara turned back to Zeynel’s alabaster features, willing him to recover but knowing it was only a matter of time before he was gone. She’d be with him when it happened, her mentor, her companion, her friend. She owed him that much and more.
“I wish...I wish to offer my thanks for bringing my son back to me.”
Sara regarded the woman. No emotion warmed her heart. She had brought Danladi back. She knew she was happy, but her happiness could not pierce the sorrow holding her in place. “It needed to be done.”
Chavi took another step forward. “Healer, that is not the only reason I’ve come. The Rabishi are here.”
Sara reached for her sword, her heart thudding in her chest. I’ll kill the bastards!
Chavi touched Sara’s shoulder, stilling her movement. “They have come under a standard of peace.”
“When?” Anger darkened her vision. She grabbed her boots and rammed them over her calves. Chavi brushed Sara’s hands away and squatted to tighten the laces.
“Last night. Tobar has offered them courtesy but not relaxed his vigil.”
“Good. How many?” Courtesy. They’d taken Zeynel from her. Guilt tainted the anger. She stared at her friend. It was only a matter of time. She could only help with the pain.
“Ten and two, the number of council.”
“Have you met them?” So why is Chavi telling me this? The thought was remote and she ignored it.
“I have seen the Rabishi Akier. The rest stay in their tent. He has a youthful face with unusual eyes. The maidens cast glances at him and giggle behind their veils.”
“But you don’t trust him?”
Chavi finished lacing the boot and kept her head down for a moment. When she looked up, her eyes were as hard as her voice. “His people took my son.”
Sara stood slowly, waiting for the vertigo to lift. Tobar had been there that morning to check on her. Why hadn’t he told her about the Rabishi?
As though reading her thoughts, Chavi continued. “Tobar forbade anyone to tell you. He said you must be left in peace.”
“Then why did you?”
“You...you deserved to know.”
Sara glanced toward where Zeynel lay. No change. “Perhaps, but you’re hoping I’ll be your executioner. No?”
Chavi didn’t reply. Her chin rose a fraction.
That was it. Chavi couldn’t go into council. She had no weapons or skill. Sara took a deep breath. “You’ll stay?”
“Yes, Healer. And should he awake, I will send for you at once.”
Sara strapped on her sword and limped into the winter sunlight. How long had it been since she’d seen daylight? Not long, but time had blurred. It seemed as if she’d always sat by Zeynel’s side, waiting.
There was electricity to the air, the subtle smell of fear. She closed her eyes; Ilydearta’s hum was steady and soft yet the unease in the air was solid. Zeynel, there are so many things you still haven’t taught me.
Sara glanced around. Even in the hastily built camp, they kept the tents in the same arrangement. She knew where Tobar would place the Rabishi. Sara wove toward the perimeter of the compound until she saw a flag flying above one of the tents, an oval bordered by concentric rings on one side as though in motion. Rabishi. Below was a flag of solid blue with several lines curved to create a sphere. Sara studied the blue flag; it must be the standard of peace Chavi mentioned. The lines joined into a whole. Separate tribes but definitely not whole.
Staying in the shadows, Sara skirted the tents. If there were any Rabishi around, they remained hidden in the tent. Cowards. Two Heleini, swords drawn, stood near the tent’s entrance. There would be no going in without Tobar’s permission. She had no desire to slaughter Heleini obeying their Akier.
A group of children sat in the sun halfheartedly throwing a leather ball to one another and glancing toward the tent under the flags.
“Did you see them?” a tall thin boy asked.
A shorter boy caught the ball and shook his head. “I hear they eat horsemeat.”
A girl, her long hair braided and left hanging down her back, looked up from an image she was sewing into a piece of leather. “They are the ones who stole the Akier.”
“No, Talia, father said that they claim they had nothing to do with it or Tobar would have killed them, standard or no,” the stocky boy answered.
The thin boy shuddered. “I heard they’re savage and thieves. My mother hid her jewelry inside one of her pillows and told me not to go near them.”
“Your mother doesn’t let you go near anything. She’d rather you were still tucked in her d’jalla.”
The other children laughed.
“Take that back. I’ve slept in my own d’jalla since before you.” The thin boy threw the ball a little harder than before.
Sara moved away. Her anger melted into exhaustion; she was tired. What had she been hoping to do? Avenge her friend? What would that solve? She looked back to the blue flag rippling in the light breeze and the single sphere in its center. Revenge wouldn’t bring Zeynel back. It wouldn�
�t change anything. Weary, she returned to her tent and her vigil.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
The tent flap rustled and a soft tread sounded against the hard-packed floor. Sara knew it was Tobar before he spoke.
“I’ve brought more fuel for your fire.”
She half turned, not wanting to take her attention away from Zeynel longer than necessary. “Thank you.”
Tobar placed the dark pellets in a basket by the fire then knelt beside her.
“The Rabishi are here,” she said, a thinly disguised accusation. She looked into his eyes and found no apology.
“Have you eaten? Today?” he amended.
“Yes. Chavi brought me something earlier.” She regarded Zeynel’s still form. The nearness of Tobar tempted her to curl into his arms and cry. A chasm had opened inside her; she was empty, hollow.
He reached out and touched her chin, raising her eyes to his. “You don’t have to be so strong. I’ve seen the bond between you, one that length of days does not create. It is not a weakness to grieve.”
“He’s not gone yet.”
“Do you think you hold his life here by your presence?”
His words hurt because maybe a small part of her thought just that.
“Do you think he is merely this wasted body before you? I did not know Zeynel long, but enough to know his small frame held more life than many will see in a lifetime.” Sara broke free from Tobar’s fingers and looked back at her friend. “He’s Shamyrddin-enki.”
Sara heard the intake of breath. “You know what that is?” She hadn’t, not until she met one.
“I’d thought they were a legend.”
“They will be. He is the last.” She fought down a sob. She would not cry. Not yet.
“It’s been two days. You’ve not slept, and eaten only enough to keep you alive. He would not want it.”
One side of her mouth rose in a parody of a smile. Zeynel would have a few choice words to say about that. But Zeynel wasn’t saying anything. The chasm inside her seemed to echo with the thought.
“I will be near should you need anything, Healer.”
Sara nodded as she listened to the whisper of his sandals leaving the tent then reached for a bowl of water to wet Zeynel’s dry lips. Perhaps, like Shandor, she could heal him if only—
A gentle touch brushed her arm. She looked down to see Zeynel’s blue eyes on her. He shook his head once. Fresh tears sprang to Sara’s eyes. Her mouth worked but no sound came. With obvious effort, Zeynel brought a finger to her lips. She grasped his hand and entwined it with hers.
“Sara.” Barely a whisper. “I will be with you always.”
Something like terror swirled in the emptiness inside her, freezing her limbs, then loneliness overflowed its walls. She couldn’t lose him.
“What I have been and will be cannot be erased.” He reached up, his arm shaking, and placed it on her head. “Teann.” A shadow of his strength flickered in his eyes. “My friend, my companion, my daughter. Long I sought your face. I prepared to train and teach you in the ways of Teann, but how could I know I’d come to love you?” He was silent for several heartbeats, his eyelids fluttering over a weary gaze. “You have returned tenfold whatever gifts I have given.” He let his hand fall back on the blankets as if the weight were too much to bear. “Take the ring.”
Sara thought about refusing, but it seemed a futile thing to do. She slipped the knotted ring off Zeynel’s thin finger.
“It is...all I am. Guard it until the time is right.”
Tears blurred her vision as she slipped the ring on her middle finger; it felt right. He reached for her hand and she grasped his in both of hers, pulling it close to her heart.
“North, Ilythra, first north.” His voice gained strength. “Hear me, now. No longer are you Sara. You are Ilythra of Anatar and your name will be spoken with reverence among all people.”
A smile touched his lips before his hand fell limp. Sara watched as Zeynel, last of his kind, departed, leaving a hollow shell only vaguely similar to the man he’d been. Sara held his hand to her lips, wetting it with her tears.
She felt pressure on her shoulder and glanced up to see Tobar, his face grave. She blinked. Had he been there the whole time? Sara let his strong arms pull her to him and she let go and cried against his chest.
Wordless, he carried her to her d’jalla and laid her on the robes.
“When you are strong enough, we will afford him every honor and send his body back to the Ancient One...Ilythra.” Tobar stroked her hair until darkness claimed her.
* * *
Her eyes felt heavy, the light harsh and unfriendly; then the weight of sorrow pinned her to bed. Zeynel. She looked to where he’d lain. Empty. The d’jalla was now rolled and placed toward the back of the tent. Too many deaths.
True to his word, Tobar had gathered his tribe together the night before to bid farewell to Zeynel. The Rabishi and Zorcani had stayed a respectful distance away. Murmurs of Shamyrddin-enki rippled through the crowd. They’d built a pyre and with precious fuel, sent Zeynel’s body back to the One. There had been a celebration after. It was customary to not only mourn the death but to pay tribute to the life of the one deceased, but Sara had stayed only long enough to be seen before retiring to her tent to mourn alone. Tobar had followed and sat with her until she fell asleep. He hadn’t spoken, but his presence had given her a degree of comfort and kept some of the loneliness at bay.
Sara glanced around the tent for any sign of the Regent and found a pot of hot tania near the fire. After rubbing her eyes to clear them, she reached for a wooden cup and filled it with the dark brew. Its sweet aroma hung in the tent and brought tears to her eyes. What is wrong with me? I don’t cry like this. I didn’t even cry like this when I lost Grandfather. Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. Sara didn’t bother to wipe them away. She was alone and if Vadoma had prophesized right, she’d be alone for a long time. She felt for the contours of Ilydearta under her tunic. “What now?” She didn’t expect an answer from the stone and didn’t get one.
The tent flap opened, letting in a waft of cold air with Tobar. He approached her and took her hand without a word. Sara set down the tania and wiped her eyes. Tobar kissed her moist fingertips, then stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. Sara leaned her head against his shoulder and let her weakness disappear in his strength.
Chapter Forty
The light rippled as the wind and rain teased the tent, the steady downpour a counterpoint to the hum of Ilydearta. Sara ignored them both. Zeynel was gone. That was all her mind could grasp. She was numb, going through the motions out of reflex. By the furtive glances in her direction, people were half-afraid of her. She didn’t have the energy to care.
She heard Tobar’s voice but the light caught it in its capricious tendrils and carried the words away from her. A hand touched her shoulder. She looked up into dark eyes. She could fall into those eyes, fall and fall and never reach their depth. There was a bond between them now, an almost palpable energy linking them. At times, it filled her with comfort; other times, it felt more like electricity. Now, it called to her, asking her to come out of her self-imposed exile.
“Ilythra. I need you by my side.”
Ilythra. Wanderer. She shrugged off the touch. “Don’t call me that.”
Tobar settled beside her, taking her face in his hands. “I need you at the council.” His eyes were soft, pleading.
“I don’t see what good I could do.”
“Isn’t it enough that I do?”
Was it? She needed to do something. To break free of this weight.
Move forward. It was only a whisper, but it had something of Zeynel in the tone.
Sara felt something break inside and reached for his face, memorizing the texture of his skin. “Yes.”
> * * *
A man stood as they entered the tent. His robes were worn but had once been of good quality. He bowed low, rising to meet her gaze. His eyes were the deep green-blue of the sea. “I have heard much of you, Sara ni Ilythra. It is good to meet you. I am Niku of the Rabishi.”
Sara fought a useless anger. The cost of righting the wrong his people had caused had been beyond measure. She inclined her head. “Rabishi.”
Tobar led her to a cushion next to his in the first tier.
“Are you well, Healer?” Gunari’s eyes narrowed as they scanned her face.
Sara settled her gaze on the familiar face, changed by a jagged mark down his left cheek, soon to scar. Her eyebrow rose. “I could ask you the same.”
A smile began on Gunari’s face to end in a wince.
Sara glanced around the circle, noting there were Rabishi, Heleini and Zorcani present.
Tobar reached for the amarin. “We gather all three tribes for the first time in our memories.” Sara felt the Heleini Regent Akier tense. “Do we agree to honor old customs?” Tobar asked.
Gunari and Niku both nodded once.
Tobar’s shoulders relaxed a fraction. “Then I claim first rights as the wronged. My son was taken from his tent without cause. If there be a cause for such an action I’d hear it—but above that, the blood of my ancestors was removed from my tribe, leaving my people bereft, and for that I see no cause as just.”
Tobar turned his gaze to Niku and with deliberation, handed him the amarin.
Niku held the stick, his gaze on the rug. “Our history is long. It is good for me to see you keep it.” He glanced around the circle, then rested his gaze on Tobar. “I rejoice in the return of your son. It is well with him?”
Tobar nodded. His face could have been chiseled from stone.
“I know words do little to ease wounds so I will spare you long apologies.”
Sara swallowed. Tobar’s hand brushed hers.
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