His comment held more of petulance than truth. She reminded him there was no overt threat that Hamaramis or Taranath couldn’t handle just as well in her stead. Her presence would confer no special advantage to the hunt for food. But having Sa’ida on their side might make all the difference in the world.
Elir-Sana was not only the goddess of plenty, she was also the deity of healing, the Khurish aspect of the goddess known to the Qualinesti as Quenesti Pah. Sa’ida was her highest representative in Khur, a favored daughter of long standing. The priestess had saved Khuri-Khan from plague after the death of Malys and ministered to the reprobate Sahim during years of intrigue, power plays, and poison plots. If anyone could heal the dying Speaker of the Sun and Stars, Sa’ida could.
Personal concerns would never carry the most weight with Gilthas, so Kerian said only, “Even if she cannot defeat the army of ghosts and floating lights, her counsel will be invaluable.”
“Khur is dangerous. Khuri-Khan doubly so,” he said stubbornly.
He’d been shivering during their exchange. Shuddering more violently, he abruptly fell back onto his pallet as if his body simply refused to support him any longer. He tried to sit up again, but his trembling arms weren’t strong enough to lift him.
She dropped to her knees by his side. “Gil!”
“I’m so tired.” Closing his eyes, he whispered, “And I’m afraid, Ken-li. If you go away, I fear I will not be here when you get back.”
He had
“You put up such a front,” she murmured, her tears falling unchecked. “Why didn’t you tell me you were so gravely ill?”
“I can’t admit it too often. It’s bad for my morale.” He chuckled weakly.
“You need to rest—”
He turned his face to the warm hollow of her throat. The inane words of comfort died on her lips.
“I will do what I must for my people-even die, if I must,” he said. “But I can’t do it without you. I lost Planchet. I can’t—”
The agonized confession choked off abruptly. He pushed a little away from her. She watched him gather his strength, drawing it around himself like a threadbare robe.
She regarded his shivering form for a few seconds then asked, “Do you trust me, Gil?” A wordless nod was his answer. “We cannot live in this valley unless its enmity to animal life is overcome. We don’t have the resources to overcome it. Lady Sa’ida is our best hope. I can go to Khuri-Khan and return in a day and a half. Give me your permission to go.”
“You’re always storming off somewhere. The missions are always vital. You don’t value your life enough, Ken-li. When you rode out of Khurinost to face the nomads, I thought you were going to die.”
That had been her goal at the time, although he didn’t know it. She’d overcome that bit of madness.
“Now you want to go away again.” He sighed, eyelids drooping. “I’m in no condition to stop you.”
She rested a hand on his cheek. “You are my sovereign. You can stop me with a single word.”
Light sparkled briefly in his eyes. “If only I could find that word.” The eyelids came down, and the spark was gone. “You may go.”
Sleep stole him away. Kerian remained beside his pallet a long time. Several times his breathing went so shallow that she thought it had ceased, but her hand on his chest still felt the slow beat of his heart.
“I am your wife,” she said, although she knew he couldn’t hear. “And I will return.”
Two riders picked their way through the debris of the nomad camp. The man wore brown trews and boots, and his leather jerkin concealed a mail shirt. His sword he wore openly. His dark hair had grown long and was grizzled at the sides. The woman was fifteen years younger. She wore her hair in a single black braid that reached the middle of her back. Her outfit was much like his but black instead of brown. A crossbow of unusual design rested across the pommel of her saddle.
Breetan Everride, Knight of the Lily, and sergeant Jeralund had traveled a very long way to reach this point. They had come from Qualinesti by foot, by ship, and by horse, pursuing a legend in the making. Their quarry was the stranger who had emerged from the depths of the forest in the former elf kingdom. He had incited a rebellion against the bandit lord Samuval with startling success. Although he was covered from head to toe by a rough robe, gloves, and a mask that bared only his eyes, they had reason to believe him to be an elf of good birth.
