The man laughed and shook his head. "Far from it, my friend. Those are the fires of celebration. We've won our independence!"
"Independence?" Minn said. "From Gask? How?"
"Shouldn't be telling you this." The man glanced behind him to ensure there was no one else in earshot. "But the way they're feeding those bonfires, in a few days, there won't be any city left, so who cares?" He chuckled and leaned in. "Word is the king ran out of money. Had to sell his claim on Gallador to Narashtovik. They turned around and set the entire lakelands free."
Blays doubled over with laughter.
In Wending, he paid a brief visit to Lolligan, who confirmed the rumors of the man on the road. The old man smirked and smoothed his silvery goatee. "You're the one who pulled this off, and you're asking me how it happened?"
"I was out of pocket for a while," Blays said. "And to be honest, I'd forgotten all about that. Was preoccupied with saving everyone, you know."
"Believe you me, after this, you'll always have a home in Wending. Take your pick."
"How's Taya doing?"
"Fine," he said. "I sent her on a vacation to the Golden Isles. She deserved it."
He was glad to hear that, and especially glad when Lolligan volunteered to buy them a second horse. They rode east, then cut overland across the Norren Territories. He saw a few hunters and scouts, but he was suddenly itchy to get where he was going and didn't approach them.
They came to the city. To his surprise, more than a few people recognized him on the street.
"Is that why you wanted to come back?" Minn said, following a lengthy hug from a female admirer.
"You can't blame them," Blays said, getting back into the saddle. "I've saved this damn place about three times now."
She nodded vaguely, gazing across the pitched roofs. "It's your home, isn't it?"
"I think it might be."
"Then I'm glad you're back."
At the Citadel, he had to repeat his name twice before being allowed inside. There was a question of whether Minn would be allowed in at all; then Gant appeared and cleared things up with a few sharp words. He escorted them upstairs and offered Minn the opportunity to change out of her travel clothes. While she was behind closed doors, Gant took Blays to the Council chambers, where Dante was sitting on the balcony reading and trying to catch a breeze.
Dante closed his book with a thump. "You're back?"
"For a bit. Did you doubt me?"
"No more than usual."
Blays wiped sweat from his brow. "Well, you shouldn't. While I was out, I engineered a pretty snazzy way to ensure the safety of Pocket Cove and your little city here." He smirked. "Although I hear you pulled a maneuver of your own on Gallador."
"Thanks to the wild bossen-dealing of a certain Lord Pendelles, that one fell right in our laps," Dante laughed. "At this rate, in a few more years Gask's borders will stop and start with Setteven."
"Any word out of Corl?"
"I think they killed my diplomats. But maybe they're involved in a lengthy discussion."
Blays nodded. "Have any regrets?"
"About killing thousands of innocents?" Dante laughed hollowly. "Every night."
"And I'm sure you tell yourself—rightly so—that the Minister's to blame for that, not you." Blays sat on the cool stone. "But I didn't mean about that. I meant about Cellen."
Dante looked across the sky. "I've got a lot of years ahead of me. No need to be greedy, is there?"
"Good. Because we can still do it."
"Do what?"
"What you meant to do with Cellen: leave this place better than we found it."
Dante looked over, eyes bright with surprise. "I thought you'd only be staying a few days."
"I'm afraid," Blays said, adopting the most dolorous expression he could muster, "you're going to be seeing a whole lot more of me than that."
The sun reddened, heading into the western turn of the bay, reminding him of a thousand sunsets just like it—and then, quite suddenly, of a singular one: the sink of the sun on a pond outside Bressel. He hadn't thought of that day in a long time and its details were slow to return. Trout breaking the surface. The smell of the water on muddy shores. The blackbirds chirring from the reeds. He had known Dante for some weeks before that, hired to watch his back while the then-boy sought to unravel the secrets of the Cycle of Arawn, but their stop at the pond was when Blays had made the choice to move beyond his role as a bodyguard. He had always considered that to be when their adventures truly began.
That memory gleamed in his mind more intensely than the sun's hard light on the sea, yet he could hardly remember the person he had been then, let alone the specific events of the days surrounding those at the pond. It was sad to think how quickly things became lost. It was no wonder things were the way they were. Memories, people, your own self. You thought you'd always have them, that you'd be able to draw on them in times of need, but they slipped away like the days, gone before you knew it.
But there was a flip side to that, wasn't there? So much became lost to time because there was so much time to lose it in. Blays had seen four thousand sunsets since the one by the pond. Unless disease or a sword got in the way, he expected to be there for thousands and thousands more.
One at a time, a day didn't sound like much. Especially when so much of each one was devoted to eating, sleeping, and so on. But when you thought of them together, stacked up like the coins at a mint? Your wealth was immense. If you spent wisely, there seemed no limit to what you could achieve. By the time he reached into his pocket and learned he'd spent his last, he intended for all they had done so far to be just the beginning.
"What?" Dante said.
"Are you going to sit on this balcony the rest of your life? Or can we get out there and show Minn the city?"
"I suppose." Dante moved to the door. "She did help save it, after all."
By the time they tracked her down and got outside, the sun was long gone. But the night air tasted sweet, cool and familiar, like the hilt of a sword or the sheets of a bed before you get up. For the moment, he was home.
FROM THE AUTHOR
Thank you so much for making it all the way to the end of The Cycle of Arawn. This series took seven years to write—and I imagine it took almost as long to read!
If I can ask one favor of you, please consider leaving a review. Those are such a big help for other readers.
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The Cycle of Arawn: The Complete Epic Fantasy Trilogy Page 171