Firebrand

“I have been listening in the back, Uncle,” Ghallos told Yannuf. “I think these creatures should be put back in their pen while we have a talk.”

“Agreed,” Yannuf said.

Before Karigan could protest, she was picked up beneath her arms again by a pair of p’ehdrose and carried back into the hut, where they dropped her. They brought Enver right behind her, but he landed neatly on his feet.

Karigan crawled over to a mat and sat. “Damnation.”

“Did they hurt you?” Enver asked.

“No worse than last time.”

“I should look at your back.”

“No.” She did not want to be caught unprepared should the p’ehdrose return for them. Besides, what could Enver do? The p’ehdrose had all of his belongings, including his herbs and medicaments. She’d also grown reluctant to let him care for her on so intimate a level. She’d the feeling of late that his desire to help came less from a place of healing than his own personal need to be near her. “This is not going the way I hoped.”

“They are a primitive race, Galadheon. They always have been.”

“Did you know about the oath?” she asked.

Enver sat fluidly onto his own mat. “Believe me, I did not. When I was given my orders, that information was left out.”

Eletians. Prince Jametari apparently thought them expendable. “They may kill us, you know. They will not want the secret of their valley to get out.”

“I am sorry, Galadheon. I did not know of this oath.”

She sighed. “It’s not your fault. It doesn’t help that I’m not much of a diplomat.” She wondered if there was any way to evoke the friendship of Lil Ambrioth. During the Long War, a p’ehdrose named Maultin had given the First Rider a horn of the komara beast. It was used to summon Green Riders and was supposed to be passed down from one Rider captain to the next. Karigan hadn’t thought to bring it along as a reminder of old friendships because she was not captain, and now she silently berated herself.

She sat for a while, then got up and paced, and then sat again, while Enver remained in his meditative posture.

“What will you do,” he asked suddenly, “when you return home?”

Karigan looked at him in surprise. “Home? That’s if we aren’t killed . . .”

“I prefer to believe all will be well.”

As if to counter his words, voices were raised in argument outside.

“If I get home, I guess it will be a return to the usual.” She paused, looked down at her hands. “Of course, I will have to get my back working properly first.”

“You will practice listening to the world.” It was not a question.

“I—yes, I guess I will.”

“What else, Galadheon?”

“I haven’t really thought about it. It depends on what duties I’m assigned.”

“Not just your duties,” Enver said. “What else?”

What was he driving at? “I don’t know.”

“What of your king?”

“What about my king?” she asked in a sharp voice. Unconsciously, she toyed with the bracelet he had made her.

“You will return to him.”

“Yes, of course I will. I am his messenger. I will return to resume my duty in Sacor City.”

“There is more to it than that,” he said, “between you.” He actually sounded angry.

She stood, not pleased with the direction in which this conversation was going. She paced some more, and then turned on him. “It is nothing. It can be nothing. It never could have been anything.”

“Are you just saying that to appease me, or do you believe it?”

“Why are you bringing this up?”

“I’ve an interest,” he said.

She stared at him, and he stared right back. His eyes took her in hungrily and there was no question of his “interest.” She stepped back, then shook herself and started pacing again. When she paused once more, she said in a low, intense voice, “I do not want to talk about this again, not about the king or—or your interest.” She turned away, but not before she saw the stung expression on his face.

• • •

It might have been a couple hours before the p’ehdrose returned for them. This time, before Karigan could be carried out, she shouted at her escorts, “I can walk! Leave your hands off me.” She was far beyond being diplomatic at this point, especially after having to sit in such pained silence with Enver for so long.

Ghallos and Yannuf stood foremost at the bonfire, waiting for them. Karigan and Enver were shoved in front of them as if in judgment.

“We have discussed long and hard what to do with a pair of oathbreakers,” Yannuf said. “Oathbreakers of peoples with whom we once had friendly ties.”

“We hear your plea for help,” Ghallos said, “as an old dark revives, but though we are sympathetic, it is not our world and not our care. We will go on as we always have.”

Karigan was about to protest when Yannuf said, “No interruptions. Your lives have been very much at stake here. There will be justice.”

She balled her fists. She wouldn’t get far against these brawny, armed p’ehdrose, but she would not die without a fight.

“Because of the friendship between our peoples of long ago,” Yannuf continued, “because of the high regard one of our greatest heroes, Maultin, held for the First Rider and King Santanara, we will spare your lives.”