Her look softened and she clung to him fiercely for a moment, pressing a little kiss against his cheek. “You have changed, brother. I am sorry, if that matters at all.”
Annon smiled and touched her cheek, then fingered the earring. “It does. Be safe. I’ll miss you.”
When they turned, Paedrin was floating up to the gap in the tree trunk. Hettie sighed with impatience and then worked her way swiftly up the craggy surface. She was quite adept at scaling the tree.
Paedrin waited for her, his expression disdainful, and he looked down at the others and nodded.
“Be careful,” Annon warned him. “But I pity the Arch-Rike your wrath.”
“He does not deserve any pity,” Paedrin replied. He nodded again. When Hettie reached him, they locked arms and entered the gap together.
Annon felt the shiver of magic rush through him and felt their absence immediately. It saddened him. Since the last time they had parted, so much had happened. Would he see them again? He hoped that he would, that Tyrus was right about them. He felt inadequate and wished the other two could have stayed with him as well.
Prince Aransetis approached the tree next. “I know my destination,” he said. He paused, studying Annon slowly, as if memorizing his features. As if measuring him. The look on his face seemed to say that he found the young man lacking. He nodded once. “Be wise, young Druidecht. Tyrus has put much faith in you.”
“So it seems,” Annon answered. He bowed formally. “I wish I knew you better. I am sorry for the blood spilled in your home today. I know the Vaettir regard life.”
The prince’s expression softened. “You are indeed wise. Farewell.”
Khiara was standing near, her eyes searching the prince’s almost pleadingly. He looked at her, not acknowledging the unspoken request. He bowed stiffly to her and departed through the portal to Stonehollow.
That left Annon, Khiara, Erasmus, and Nizeera.
Annon sighed heavily, feeling the weight of the burden on his shoulders increase with each breath. His uncle had all but charged him with the burden of stopping the Plague. The enormity of the responsibility nearly choked him with despair.
“We seek Basilides,” Erasmus said, shuffling his feet. He thought a moment, wriggling his fingers as he counted something in his mind. “It is the domain of the Arch-Rike. We will not find a passage to it unless we know generally where it is. What would be helpful is if we could speak to someone who did know its location. A Rike of Seithrall, for example. As it happens, there were several killed not long ago in the prince’s manor.” He looked at Khiara pointedly. “Do you know the keramat of raising the dead?”
She looked at him in surprise. “You are a Preachán from Havenrook. How do you know of the keramat?”
“Everything is bought and sold in Havenrook. Everything.”
Annon turned to her in surprise. “I did not know it was even possible. What sort of magic is it?”
“We do not use it very often,” she answered softly. “That keramat comes at a great sacrifice to the user. One exchanges a portion of his life force for another. Many who have this keramat do not reveal it except to close family, for they are the only ones that they would give up a portion of their own life for.”
Annon stared at her in surprise, and Erasmus waved his hand patiently. “You get what you pay for, Annon. A life for a life. There are those who sell a portion of themselves—a week or a month at a time. If they are desperate for money.”
“A Vaettir would never sell this,” she said with a touch of anger.
Erasmus pursed his lips. “I’ve seen it traded, my lady. Everything has a price in Havenrook. What I suggest here is not a severe sacrifice. Grant the life back to a Rike of Seithrall. Ask him what he knows about Basilides. We would not give him much of his life back. A fortnight, maybe. Do you know this keramat?”
“I do not. But the Shaliah who trained me does. He may be unwilling for one of the Arch-Rike’s minions.”
Annon was incredulous, but the idea had merit. “Regardless of whether we do this, it would make sense if we took their clothes at any rate. It would be easier to gain access to the place if we looked like we belonged. It seems that the prince shared that sentiment anyway.”
Khiara nodded softly. “I will ask.”
Annon looked at Erasmus. “You search the bodies. See if you can choose one who may be the most likely to know where we can find Basilides. Do you remember how many…?”
“There were eight,” he answered curtly. “Three with brown hair, four with black, and one with fair hair. I think the fair-headed one may be our best man. He looked to be the oldest, the most experienced. He also seemed the most ruthless. I would imagine he was unhappy to die this morning.” He turned to Khiara. “How long after death can this keramat be performed?”
Annon smiled and touched her cheek, then fingered the earring. “It does. Be safe. I’ll miss you.”
When they turned, Paedrin was floating up to the gap in the tree trunk. Hettie sighed with impatience and then worked her way swiftly up the craggy surface. She was quite adept at scaling the tree.
Paedrin waited for her, his expression disdainful, and he looked down at the others and nodded.
“Be careful,” Annon warned him. “But I pity the Arch-Rike your wrath.”
“He does not deserve any pity,” Paedrin replied. He nodded again. When Hettie reached him, they locked arms and entered the gap together.
Annon felt the shiver of magic rush through him and felt their absence immediately. It saddened him. Since the last time they had parted, so much had happened. Would he see them again? He hoped that he would, that Tyrus was right about them. He felt inadequate and wished the other two could have stayed with him as well.
Prince Aransetis approached the tree next. “I know my destination,” he said. He paused, studying Annon slowly, as if memorizing his features. As if measuring him. The look on his face seemed to say that he found the young man lacking. He nodded once. “Be wise, young Druidecht. Tyrus has put much faith in you.”
“So it seems,” Annon answered. He bowed formally. “I wish I knew you better. I am sorry for the blood spilled in your home today. I know the Vaettir regard life.”
The prince’s expression softened. “You are indeed wise. Farewell.”
Khiara was standing near, her eyes searching the prince’s almost pleadingly. He looked at her, not acknowledging the unspoken request. He bowed stiffly to her and departed through the portal to Stonehollow.
That left Annon, Khiara, Erasmus, and Nizeera.
Annon sighed heavily, feeling the weight of the burden on his shoulders increase with each breath. His uncle had all but charged him with the burden of stopping the Plague. The enormity of the responsibility nearly choked him with despair.
“We seek Basilides,” Erasmus said, shuffling his feet. He thought a moment, wriggling his fingers as he counted something in his mind. “It is the domain of the Arch-Rike. We will not find a passage to it unless we know generally where it is. What would be helpful is if we could speak to someone who did know its location. A Rike of Seithrall, for example. As it happens, there were several killed not long ago in the prince’s manor.” He looked at Khiara pointedly. “Do you know the keramat of raising the dead?”
She looked at him in surprise. “You are a Preachán from Havenrook. How do you know of the keramat?”
“Everything is bought and sold in Havenrook. Everything.”
Annon turned to her in surprise. “I did not know it was even possible. What sort of magic is it?”
“We do not use it very often,” she answered softly. “That keramat comes at a great sacrifice to the user. One exchanges a portion of his life force for another. Many who have this keramat do not reveal it except to close family, for they are the only ones that they would give up a portion of their own life for.”
Annon stared at her in surprise, and Erasmus waved his hand patiently. “You get what you pay for, Annon. A life for a life. There are those who sell a portion of themselves—a week or a month at a time. If they are desperate for money.”
“A Vaettir would never sell this,” she said with a touch of anger.
Erasmus pursed his lips. “I’ve seen it traded, my lady. Everything has a price in Havenrook. What I suggest here is not a severe sacrifice. Grant the life back to a Rike of Seithrall. Ask him what he knows about Basilides. We would not give him much of his life back. A fortnight, maybe. Do you know this keramat?”
“I do not. But the Shaliah who trained me does. He may be unwilling for one of the Arch-Rike’s minions.”
Annon was incredulous, but the idea had merit. “Regardless of whether we do this, it would make sense if we took their clothes at any rate. It would be easier to gain access to the place if we looked like we belonged. It seems that the prince shared that sentiment anyway.”
Khiara nodded softly. “I will ask.”
Annon looked at Erasmus. “You search the bodies. See if you can choose one who may be the most likely to know where we can find Basilides. Do you remember how many…?”
“There were eight,” he answered curtly. “Three with brown hair, four with black, and one with fair hair. I think the fair-headed one may be our best man. He looked to be the oldest, the most experienced. He also seemed the most ruthless. I would imagine he was unhappy to die this morning.” He turned to Khiara. “How long after death can this keramat be performed?”
