Aurian

26 A Bargain with Death

Anvar’s endurance had finally reached an end. After many days—he had lost count of how many—in the slave camp, he was laid low by a fever carried by the whining, biting insects. One morning he found himself unable to rise, his body wracked by shivers and delirium. The overseer rolled him over with a sandaled foot. “This one is finished.” The words echoed weirdly in Anvar’s receding consciousness. “Get the others to work, and we’ll see to him later. What a pity-already he has won me a month’s wages. Had he lasted a little longer it would have been more.”

These were the last words that Anvar heard as he was drawn down, down into a spiral ing blackness. In that moment, all pain and sorrow and weariness lifted from his heart, and gladly he let go, to commence the final journey.

For several days after her talk with Harihn, Aurian did little but eat and sleep, and argue with the surgeon about when she could get out of bed. The search for Anvar had made no progress, and she was anxious to get matters moving at her speed. But the surgeon remained obdurate, and to her dismay, she was prevented from trying out her injured leg by Shia, who had come down unexpectedly but firmly on the side of the wrinkled little man. Since the great cat never left her side, Aurian found herself helplessly confined to bed, waited on hand and foot by the gigantic Bohan. Out of gratitude for his devotion, and the well-meaning concern of both Shia and her host, Aurian tried to curb her irritation, but her frustration was mounting with each passing day.

Harihn spent a good deal of time with the Mage, and in the course of their conversations, told her about the city-state of Taibeth, to which she had come. It was the capital city and northernmost outpost of the Khazalim, most of whom lived a nomadic life in the arid wilderness to the south of the great river valley, or dwelt jn scattered settlements to the west, farther up the river. “It is a difficult land,” he told her, “and the Khazalim are a difficult people—fierce, Warlike, and merciless to their enemies. My father is a good example of our race.”

With that, he went on to speak of his unhappy childhood. The Prince’s mother had been a princess of the Xandim, who lived far across the desert and were renowned for their legendary horses. She had been captured on a raid and wedded to Xiang, but her spirit had proved too proud and independent to suit the Khisu. When Harihn was a boy, Xiang had finally had his mother drowned in the river by assassins, claiming her death as an accident. Her son had spent his childhood roaming the Royal Palace, lonely and unloved, a constant victim of his father’s brutality. But the Khisu had never taken another Queen, and as sole royal heir, Harihn’s life had been preserved —until now.

Harihn, to Aurian’s dismay, refused to let go of the idea of somehow using Anvar to discredit the new Queen. “Truly,” he said, “your husband may yet prove to be a weapon for me against my royal father.”

“Now wait a minute,” Aurian broke in. “I’m not having Anvar put in danger because of this feud of yours.”

“Danger? Feud? Aurian, you do not understand.” The Prince leaned forward, his eyes intense. “Your husband is in the gravest of danger, if yet he lives. If the Khisu discovers the connection between this man and his new Khisihn, then Anvar’s life will not be worth a grain of sand. And what of the Khisihn herself? I saw her ruthlessness when she pleaded for your death. She would never leave your man alive to give away her secret! Nay, I must intensify the search at once. I would rather have this pawn in my hands as soon as possible, not only for your peace of mind and for my benefit, but for his own safety.”

Nonetheless, it was another four days before the search yielded .any results. Aurian, driven mad with impatience, had finally won the right to be allowed out of bed. Her persistence had worn down Harihn, the surgeon, and Shia, to the point where it had been decided that Bohan should carry her outside, and settle her on a comfortable chair in the lavish walled garden, with her injured Jeg propped up on a footstooJ. She was sternly forbidden to get to her feet, however, and the eunuch remained in constant attendance on her to see to her every need.

Well, it’s progress at least, Aurian thought glumly. At first she had badgered the Prince to remove those accursed bracelets and let her Heal herself, but he had told her that the secret of their unlocking had long been lost by the Khazalim. Besides, according to an ancient law, the freeing of a sorcerer within the bounds of the kingdom would result in all parties concerned being flayed alive. Though the Mage had grudgingly dropped the matter, it only served ’to increase her despair.

Aurian sat by the ormanental pool in the shade of a flowering tree, inwardly fuming. Shia, having utterly lost patience with her irascible friend, had taken herself off to sleep in the shade. The Mage was moodily shredding the waxy, perfumed, trumpetlike blossoms between her fingers and throwing the fragments into the pool, where they were instantly seized by the greedy golden carp—and just as instantly spat out again. But they kept trying, all the same. Stupid things, Aurian thought grouchily. You’d think they’d learn.

Just then Bohan, who had been sitting on the grass nearby, leapt to his feet at the sound of approaching footsteps, and hastily prostrated himself before his Prince, who came hurrying along the terrace, his face alight. “News, Aurian,” he cried. “I have news at last!”

Aurian tried to rise, but he pushed her gently down again into the chair. Pain lanced through her strapped ribs, but she ignored it. “Tell me!” she cried. Harihn dropped to the grass beside her, panting in the enervating heat, and poured two goblets of wine from the jug on the low table beside her. “We located the captain of the Corsair ship last night,” he said. “Naturally he was reluctant to admit to illegal trade in foreigners, but a brief sojourn in my dungeon soon changed that!” His eyes sparkled with a savage glee that Aurian found distasteful. Like father, like son, she thought. I ought to be more careful.

“It seems,” Harihn continued, “that he sold your Anvar to a notorious slave trader named Zahn. My men paid him a visit this morning. At first he denied all knowledge of the matter, but when offered a simple choice—a large bribe on the one hand, or a visit to his friend the captain in my dungeon on the other—he became most helpful. It is just as well,” he said, frowning. “Had I been forced to arrest Zahn, it would have attracted the Khisu’s attention. Zahn is his main source of slaves to build his summer palace. If my father had found out about your husband, things might have gone very badly for us all.”

“Never mind that,” Aurian prompted impatiently, not interested in any of this—a mistake, as she was later to discover. “Where is Anvar? What did you find out?”

“Try not to hope too much, Aurian.” Harihn’s face grew somber. “Zahn sold him to the work gangs building my father’s summer palace upriver. The Khisu only wants it finished, and cares not how many lives he wastes to gain his ends. I visited the place once. The brutality with which the slaves were treated made me sick.” He took hold of the Mage’s hand. “Aurian, your Anvar went there several weeks ago, and slaves die in that place like flies. And you Northerners have not the constitution for this climate. It is almost certain that he is dead, Lady.”

“No!” Seeing her stricken face, he went on quickly. “But I have readied a boat, and I will go myself, at once, to see.”

Instantly the old glint was back in Aurian’s eyes. “Good,” she said. “I thought I would have to talk you into it for a minute. How soon can we start?”

Harihn stared at her, taking in the strapping on her ribs that was visible through the gauzy white robe that she wore, the leg tightly swathed in bandages, and the left arm still in a sling to immobilize it as much as possible. Fading bruises lingered on her arms and her pallid face. “Aurian, you cannot go,” he told her firmly.^.

Aurian’s jaw tightened. “Would you care to wager on that, my Prince?”

At any other time, the journey upriver would have been very pleasant. Aurian and Harihn reclined on cushions beneath a shady canopy, the ever attentive Bohan fanning away the swarms of insects that hovered over the sluggish waters. Though Harihn had forsaken his extravagant royal barge for a plainer craft in order to attract as little attention as possible, there was an unmistakable air of luxury about the voyage. Fruit and wine had been provided, but the Mage was far too anxious to eat. She sat bolt upright, gazing upriver, willing the bargemen to row faster. Never in her life had she bitten her nails, but she was doing it now.

Harihn watched her, a frown on his face. “Aurian,” he said at last. “Must you fret so?”

“What do you think?” Aurian snapped. “How can I not fret when Anvar is suffering so badly? I blame myself for this.” Her voice was bitter.

“Aurian, what could you have done?” The Prince sat up and laid a soothing hand on her arm. “You take too much upon yourself. What’s done is done—remember how near you came to losing your own life. You might have turned your back on Anvar, as the Khisihn has done, but you did not. What more can you do? Whether we come in time or no, we will not come any quicker for your worrying.”

“I know,” Aurian said miserably. “I just can’t help it.”

As the barge approached the jetty at the site of the summer palace, Aurian could see for herself how badly the slaves were abused, and how much they suffered. Her throat constricted with fear. Surely Anvar could never have survived this? Why, oh why had she ever left him? Her knuckles tightened, the nails of her clenched fingers digging into the soft wood of the barge’s rail.

When they were safely moored, Bohan carried the Mage ashore and set her down on the dusty ground while Harihn sent for the Slavemaster. They waited. Aurian was in a fever of impatience. Shia, to her disgust, had been made to stay behind, but Harihn had brought his surgeon with them. The little man was frowning, his lips pursed in disapproval at what he saw. When Aurian caught his eye, he responded with a slight shake of his head. “Oh, please,” she began to pray, even though she knew now that the Gods she had grown up with had only been Magefolk like herself. “Please . . .”

The Slavemaster duly arrived. Recognizing his Prince with a start, he dropped to the ground, quaking all over. Harihn hastily summoned him to rise and drew him to one side, out of earshot. Their discussion seemed interminable to Aurian. Though she was unable to hear, she could see the Slavemaster spreading his hands in denial and shaking his head vehemently. At last Harihn tired of the argument, and snapped his fingers. Immediately two grim-faced palace guards, armed with great curved scimitars, climbed out of the barge and positioned themselves on either side of the Slavemaster with drawn blades.

The Slavemaster sank to his knees, pleading. Pointing! Aurian turned her eyes in the same direction. The slave compound.

Harihn returned to her, his expression grim. “Anvar is here,” he said. “Bohan will take you to him at once, for the news is grave. The Slavemaster says he is dying.”

The stench in the compound was overwhelming. Bohan set Aurian down beside the solitary occupant, who was huddled on the far side, in the scant shade afforded by the wooden palisade. Aurian gasped. Anvar was scarcely recognizable; his reddened skin was peeling and blistered, his lips cracked, his body covered in bruises and sores beneath the sweat and grime. He barely breathed. Aurian took her arm out of its sling and pulled his head onto her lap, wiping the dust from his face with the trailing sleeve of her robe. Her vision blurred with tears. “Quick!” she snapped at Bohan. “Fetch some water!” The eunuch hurried off, and Aurian beckoned the surgeon over.

His face was grave as he made his examination. “This man is dying,” he said flatly.

“Surely you can do something?” Aurian pleaded. For the first time, the surgeon’s professional mask slipped. He laid a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. “Lady, I can do nothing—only end his suffering and speed him on his way. It would be by far the kindest thing.”

“Damned if you will!” Her eyes blazed with such fury that the surgeon threw himself flat on the ground in terror. “Get out of here!” Aurian spat.

As the little man scrambled away, she reached forward and took Anvar’s scarred hands in her own. As her tears fell on his face, Aurian’s heart was wrenched by a stab of excruciating memory. She had been through this exact experience before— when Forral died! Her indrawn breath was a sharp hiss. “Curse you, Anvar, don’t die on me, too! I can’t face this again! I won’t let you die!”

She gripped Anvar’s hands in an iron grasp, as though she could drag him back to life by main force. Desperately she fought to access her power—to reach himv to Heal him—but her will slipped away like water trickling through her fingers, drawn into the dead gray vortex that was the power of the bracelets.

Aurian gritted her teeth against despair. “No,” she

But the harder she tried, the more she felt herself weakening as her power poured into the bracelets. Her vision darkened, her awareness of this foul place and the sun’s merciless heat slipped away until her consciousness hung, it seemed, by a single thread of will. But that thread was made of adamant. She struggled on, down a tunnel of endless blackness, refusing to give in.

A gentle touch on Aurian’s shoulder snapped her back. She found herself slumped, faint and dizzy, over Anvar’s motionless form, her mind reeling from the shock of the sudden transition. She could no longer feel him breathing. No! It couldn’t be over! Bohan swam into focus, kneeling beside her on the filthy ground, a jug of water beside him. With a gentle finger he touched the tears on Aurian’s face, his own eyes brimming with sympathy. And something clicked in the Mage’s mind. She remembered the Arena—remembered drawing strength from the crowd around her. “Bohan,” she whispered, “will you help me?”

The giant hesitated for a moment, fear in his eyes. Then he nodded. “Put your hands on mine,” Aurian told him. He did as he was ordered, his great hands engulfing both those of the Mage and Anvar. Aurian took a deep breath. “Good. Now stay absolutely still and relax. Lend me your strength, Bohan, to save Anvar’s life.”

Aurian concentrated—concentrated as she had never done before, straining to breach the barrier that was the power of the bracelets. Then it came. Like a floodgate opening, Bohan’s strength flowed into her, supplementing her own. Through a reddish haze, she saw the rust-colored stones of the bracelets pulse and glow like tiny embers as they sated themselves on her magic. A scorching heat ate at her wrists, but she paid no heed. With a sudden shock, she realized that the bracelets stored power—not just her own, but the powers of all the Mages who had borne them before her. If she could access that power, even for an instant, she could break down the very walls of Death itself! But how to release it—what was the key? Come on, Aurian urged herself. Think! Anvar’s life depends on it! She found her thoughts turning to him, then, reaching for the essence of the man. Anvm-.* Those piercing blue eyes that held his

The memory of that smile went like an arrow to her heart, and her heart turned over in her breast ...

And Aurian’s vision was suddenly blocked by a vast, darkly shrouded form that loomed over her, towering into the sky. “Aaaah,” it said, its voice a deep, dry, rustling whisper like leaves turning in a midnight graveyard—like worms that seemed to eat into her very soul. “So, this time you think to cheat me?”

Aurian swallowed hard, gathering her courage to answer back—to defy Death itself. And from somewhere the courage came. “If that’s what it takes,” she replied. “You have had enough from me and mine. Seek your prey elsewhere!”

Death laughed like a blade drawn up Aurian’s spine. “A fool you are, to believe that matters are so simple. Yet in your ignorance you have found the only coin which will permit you to bargain with me. Many before you have tried to make such a bargain, but I warn you that my price is high—and both of you will pay it, ere we meet again.” The Specter loomed forward threateningly, and Aurian bit her lip, steeling herself not to shrink away from His overwhelming Presence.

“You have courage, Lady.” This time the voice held an undertone of respect. “And for all my evil reputation, never believe that Death is merciless. Far from it. If your coin—the coin that you and this man both possess—is good, and not counterfeit, you may yet have the best of the bargain. Remember that, when you come to pay my price!”

The figure disappeared-in a blinding flash of red light. The power within the bracelets, suddenly released, coursed through Aurian—through Bohan, throwing him backward—then through Anvar. Aurian felt her soul rushing outward to meet the soul of her companion—to enfold it safely, and bring him home again.

Aurian blinked, baffled for a moment to find herself back in the squalor of the slave compound. Then she saw that her wrists were bare. The bracelets had crumbled away to fine, powdery ash that was already dissipating as she watched.

Anvar stirred beneath the Mage’s hands, his brilliant blue eyes opening to meet her own. All traces of his hurts had vanished. Later, Aurian would realize that in that flash, her own hurts had also been healed, but now she was simply consumed with relief, and gratitude, and wonder for the miracle that her own indomitable will had wrought.

“Aurian?” Anvar’s voice was barely a whisper in his parched throat.

“I’m here.” The Mage could scarcely find her own voice.

Bohan was at Aurian’s elbow, proffering a cup of water, but her hands were shaking too much to take it, and she was afraid to lose her tight grasp on Anvar, lest by doing so she would let him slip away from her again. Instead she propped him, while the eunuch held the cup to his lips.

“Witch! You’ve betrayed us all!” The sun was blotted out as Harihn’s shadow fell across the little group on the ground. His eyes, stretched wide with horror, were fastened on Aurian’s wrists, where the bracelets of Zathbar had been.

“Harihn . . .” Aurian began urgently, but the Prince’s jeweled sword had already flashed free of its scabbard. She tried to get to her feet, but was hampered by Anvar, who had seen the danger and was also struggling weakly to rise as the blade arced down.

Bohan moved with an agility that belied his immense size, flinging himself between the Mage and Harihn’s blade. He had drawn his own short sword, and metal clashed with metal, showering Aurian and Anvar with sparks as he turned the blow aside. Harihn’s wrist twisted down and outward from the back shock of the blow, and Bohan’s left hand shot out to grasp it, tightening his grip until, with a cry of pain, the Prince dropped his weapon. Aurian saw his chest swell with a deep breath as he prepared to call his guards.

“Stop!” Her voice, though not loud, was like a whiplash. From her kneeling position, she addressed the Prince, speaking low and rapidly. “If you kill me, Xiang will want the bracelets back. What will you say to him? You can’t produce them— they’re gone. He has waited for a chance like this, he’ll say you removed them. He has a new Khisihn now, remember, a chance to have other heirs. He’d enjoy having you flayed alive. Think about it.”

Harihn paled, as her words spelled out his dilemma so succinctly. Aurian pushed her advantage. “We’re ready to leave, aren’t we?”

He nodded.

“Good. Then let’s get out of here before anyone notices what has happened. We can work something out when we get back to the Palace.”

“The surgeon saw.” The words grated from between Harihn’s teeth. “He came gibbering to me with some tale of sorcery. Others must have heard.”

Aurian frowned. “Right. Get something to wrap Anvar in, so no one will see that he’s been Healed. Bohan will carry him to the barge, and you can take me.” She forbore to mention that she too had been Healed. In fact, she had only just noticed. “I’ll cover my wrists with my sleeves so no one will see that the bracelets are gone, and when we get to the barge,” she went on, “you curse the surgeon for lying—be furious with him.” “I think I can manage that,” Harihn muttered grimly. “Just make sure nobody believes what really happened and get us out of here as quickly as possible. You can offer the surgeon a bribe or something later. All right?”

Harihn scowled. “Very well—for the present. But this matter is not ended between us—Lady.”

“Fair enough,” Aurian said evenly. “Just get on with it.” Bohan fetched a blanket from the artisans’ camp and carried Anvar down to the barge while the Prince followed with Aurian. He carried W stiffly,\m We averted,\i\*’^ro &t!£\«& with anger. When he had stowed her safely on board, Aurian watched with horror as he carried out his charade with the hapless surgeon, who backed away in terror, right down to the very end Of the jetty, as his Prince bore down on him in wrath. His screams rang out as Harihn seized a whip from a nearby overseer and lashed him across the face and shoulders, punctuating the blows with shouts loud enough for the entire camp to hear. “Liar! Fool! How dare you come to your Prince with such a tale!”

The surgeon fell on his face, wailing. The Prince threw away the whip and advanced on the poor man—and Aurian gasped with horror as he lifted the surgeon bodily and hurled him into the river. Hordes of the great toothed lizards appears as if by magic, converging on their helpless, thrashing victim, noirincr a/ail was cut short in a flurrying face and ripped to pieces. Then there was only silence—and a spreading red stain on the waters.

Harihn, stony-faced, leapt into the barge and signaled the oarsmen to pull away. There was not a sound from the shocked onlookers as his voice echoed across the water. “So perish all who lie to their Prince. Remember that.”

Aurian, utterly sickened, turned away from the carnage and made Anvar comfortable on the cushions, pulling the blanket away from his face.

“Are you all right?” he whispered.

Aurian nodded, bemused by the irony that he should be asking her. She patted his arm gently. “You rest—I’ll be back in a minute.” She turned to Bohan. “Take care of him, please.” The eunuch nodded, and she took his hand. “Bohan, I can’t thank you enough for your help today. I’m forever in your debt.”

The big man smiled, shaking his head.

“Yes,” the Mage corrected him firmly. “Somehow I’ll find a way to repay you, my friend.”

Steeling herself, Aurian made her way to the bow, where the Prince sat, staring sightlessly at the muddy river. “I hope you’re proud of yourself,” she hissed. “How can you justify such a monstrous act?”

Harihn spun to face her, wretchedness and disgust on his face. His eyes glinted with unshed tears. “The man was a surgeon!” he flung at her. “He thought he had seen a miracle! How could he resist telling others, arid proving our undoing in the process? The slave was dying—dead in fact. Your actions were against all nature!” His voice curdled with bitterness. “Did you not think there would be a price to pay? A fair bargain, was it not? A life for a life—my servant in exchange for your man. You robbed the surgeon of his life, Aurian, by your deed. I was merely the agent. Only hope it ends here—for the Reaper may exact a higher price for the soul that you snatched from his grasp!”

“Superstitious nonsense!” Aurian snapped, unnerved by his words. She seemed to remember something—something about a price, and true coin^ but it eluded her. Death had already wiped his words from Her mind. “I simply acted in all good

“And how many lives may be lost in the future because they will be denied the surgeon’s skill?” Harihn’s voice was rising to an hysterical pitch. “How will his family take comfort from your good faith? And when my father has me flayed alive for loosing a foreign witch on his people, what will you—”

“Enough!” Aurian leapt to her feet, rocking the barge. Her voice was shaking. “Very well. The fault is mine. I take responsibility. But your law put those accursed bracelets on me in the first place, and the same law brands me a criminal for using my powers to save a life, and condemns you by default because I did it whilst in your custody. Were I faced with the decision again, I would do the same thing—not only for Anvar, but also for you, or for anyone else that I cared about!”

She sat down beside him once more, her voice softened. “I’m sorry, Harihn, for bringing such trouble upon you. This is a shabby way to repay all you’ve done for me, and I’ll try to think of a way to protect you from the consequences. But can’t you see—I had no choice?”

Harihn tore his eyes away from hers. “Lady, I fear you,” he said frankly. “You talk of repeating the same act, had you the need—but I tell you plainly, were you before me in the Arena once more, I would not lift a hand to save you, knowing the consequences as I do now.”

Aurian tried desperately to think of a way to mend matters. “You speak of consequences, but the thread has not unraveled yet, and the tale of our lives is unfinished. I hope in the end that you won’t have clause to regret saving my life, Harihn. It may be that I can help you, now that my powers are unfettered.”

Harihn flinched. “No!” he cried. “Do not tempt me with your evil! I would never gain power by such ends.”

“Now you see what an awesome responsibility the Magefolk carry,” Aurian said. “Such power is a constant temptation—and a constant burden. Think of the slaughter, if I backed you in a revolution. Think of the deaths on my conscience then. But to use my power to save a life—I cannot believe that to be an ill deed.”

Harihn sighed. “I think I understand—a little. Lady, leave me for a while, go tend to your husband. I have much to think upon—and much to regret.”

They had almost talked the journey out. Aurian was surprised to see the city around them once more, and the ornate contours of the Prince’s boathouse in the distance. But she could not begrudge the time she had taken to reach some form of understanding with Harihn. His fear of sorcery was the fear of all his people, and in a way they were right, she thought, remembering with a shudder the Nihilim that Miathan had unleashed, and the terrifying ferocity of Eliseth’s storm. Those two had sold their souls for power, and the thought sickened her. Would she finish up like that? Never, Aurian vowed to herself. Not wanting to think about it, she went to the stern to check on Anvar.

He was sleeping, but his eyes opened at her approach, as though in some way he sensed her proximity. Perhaps he did. When she had pulled Anvar back from death, their very souls had touched. Who else could say they had shared such closeness? Yet Aurian found herself reluctant to approach him. She was stricken with guilt that she had abandoned him to such suffering. How could she face him now? He must hate her, surely? But as she hesitated, he reached for her hand, holding on to it with surprising strength, as though she were still his only anchor on life. “I thought you wouldn’t come,” he whispered. “I almost let go. I’m sorry, Aurian. I should have known better.”

Aurian stared at him, tears in her eyes. He was sorry? “Oh, Anvar,” she murmured. “How can you ever forgive me?”

“You came,” he said. “You’re always there when it matters. Why did it take me so long to realize that?”

Aurian was completely taken aback. “I made a proper mess of things with my temper this time,” she insisted. “I should never have left you like that. You can hit me when you’re feeling better—I deserve it.”

“No.” The stubborn set of Anvar’s jaw was an echo of her own.

“Then I’ll do it myself!” She made a parody of punching herself in the jaw and falling over, and he laughed. Oh, thank the Gods that he was all right, that she had arrived in time. In an excess of relief she hugged him, and felt his arms tighten round her shoulders.

“Have you found Sara?” His words were like a drench of icy water. Aurian pulled away from him, frowning. Always bloody Sara! And how in the world was she going to tell him that Sara had betrayed him—had abandoned him for a King and not lifted one finger to find him, let alone help him. It would break him for sure. She looked away from the hope in his eyes. “Sara is fine,” she evaded. “She came out of this better than any of us.”

To her intense relief, at that moment the barge bumped up against the edge of Harihn’s jetty. “Here we are!” she said briskly. “Let’s get you inside, and get you cleaned up and fed. Bohan—that’s the enormous fellow—will take care of you. Don’t worry, you can trust him. When you’ve rested, I’ll tell you everything that’s been happening.” Quickly she beckoned to Bohan to take Anvar up to her rooms, and got out of the way before he had time to ask her any more awkward questions.

Anvar lay in bed, watching the light breeze stir the filmy gauze canopy that protected him against insects. Silken sheets felt cool and luxurious against his newly bathed skin. This time, for some reason, the Healing had not had its usual enervating effect, and he felt alert and tingling with life—and fabulously hungry. Not surprising, he mused, feeling his protruding ribs with bony fingers. His body tensed as he recalled the horrors of the slave camp, and his hands flew automatically to the unyielding iron collar, the mark of slavery that had still to be removed from his neck. “No!” he told himself firmly. He mustn’t think of that.Tt was all over now. Aurian had come for him, as he had prayed she would. She had saved him again.

Anvar was reminded of his first meeting with the Mage, when he had run away from the Academy’s kitchens. He had awakened between clean sheets in a room in the Garrison, with all his hurts Healed, to see her smiling at him. He had not trusted her then. But this time I’ll do better, he promised himself. He would repay her by taking care of her, at least until her child was born. The Gods knew, she needed him, though he would have a hard time convincing her. She was so bloody stubborn and independent! He would just have to make her understand. And Sara, too, he thought guiltily. How could he reconcile the two? Sara would never tolerate having the Mage with them.

“Tough!” Anvar, speaking aloud, startled himself with his own vehemence—and his own conclusions. But the truth had begun to dawn on him during his imprisonment in the cells below the slave market. Sara, the love of his childhood, tugged at his heart. How could she not? But she was no longer an innocent girl. She had hardened. There was a calculation now in her manner—something tainted, that he dared not trust. It had taken their time alone, when they were shipwrecked, to show it to him. Aurian’s absence then had left a void within him—as though part of himself had gone. Gods, how he had missed her! How his heart had lifted, to see her again! The thought of the Mage had given him courage—had given him hope through all the terror and torment. He had known that she would come—it was Aurian that he trusted. Not Sara. Aurian.

But you love Sara, part of Anvar’s mind protested, and he knew it was true. But did he love what she was now—or what she once had been? And did he love Aurian? She was a friend, a true companion, but a Mage? Could I love a Mage? he asked himself. Gods, I don’t know. I just don’t know. But I know who I’d rather have beside me in a tight spot!

Anvar heard the door opening, and the rattle of a tray being set down. Someone moved on the other side of the gauze that shrouded his bed. It must be the taciturn Bohan, bringing some food. But to his surprise, it was Aurian who thrust aside the curtains. Anvar smiled, delighted to see her again, even after only an hour’s absence.

“How are you feeling?” Aurian asked.

Anvar thought she looked worried. Was she still feeling guilty about his suffering in the slave camp? “I’m fine,” he hastened to reassure her. “In fact, I don’t need to be in bed at all—except that your friend Bohan put me here and made me stay!”

Aurian made a droll face. “He did that to me, too,” she told him sympathetically. “Sometimes he’s a little overzealous. Here, I’ve brought you something to eat.” She put the tray down on the bed, forestalling him as he made a grab for the food. “I know you’re ravenous, but take it slowly,” she warned him. “We don’t want you making yourself sick.”

Anvar nodded, knowing that she was right. “Where are we?” he asked her, between bites. “What is this place?”

Aurian grinned. “Ostentatious, isn’t it?” she said. “It belongs to the Khisal—the Prince. He rescued me from the Arena, and—”

“He rescued you from the what?”

Aurian paused to pour herself some wine. “I suppose I had better start from the beginning,” she said. While he ate, she told him of her dealings with the Leviathan, her discovery that he had been captured, and her terrible trek upriver in search of him.

“I’m sorry about your hair,” Anvar interrupted. “It was so beautiful . . .”

Aurian shrugged. “It just wasn’t practical in this heat,” she said, but the compliment made her smile, nonetheless. “Besides,” she went on quietly, “I missed having you around to brush it for me.”

Anvar reached out and took her hand. “In that case, you’d better start growing it again,” he said firmly.

Aurian was staring at him as though she could hardly believe her ears, and he was surprised, and shocked, to see tears in her eyes. “I didn’t think you’d want . . .” she whispered.

It tore Anvar’s heart to see her so vulnerable. She was always so brave, so self-sufficient, that he tended to forget that she needed comfort and support, just like anyone else. He gripped her hand more tightly. “Aurian, what happened was just as much my fault as it was yours,” he told her firmly. “I behaved abominably to you on the ship, and afterward. Let’s put it behind us. We need each other. I’ll make Sara understand somehow.”

She flinched and looked away at the mention of Sara’s name. “I’d better tell you the rest,” she said grimly.

Anvar felt alarm tighten his throat. But she’d said that Sara was safe . . . Seeing the bleak look in the Mage’s eyes, he decided it would be wiser to let her tell the story in her own way.

Aurian spoke of her capture on the outskirts of the city, and how they had used the bracelets to take her powers, and condemned her to fight in the Arena. She had reached the climax of her fight with Shia—now that took some believing— when she was interrupted by a fearsome clamor. They heard shouts from outside, and the sound of weapons clashing.

Aurian spun round. “What the—Xiang!” She was up off the bed and running for her sword, which stood propped in the corner, but even as she moved, the door burst open and several men-at-arms rushed in, bearing loaded crossbows. Anvar’s warning cry froze in his throat. Aurian whirled—and fell, clutching at her shoulder, above her right breast. Blood spurted between her fingers. The bolt, which had torn through her flesh and right out the other side at this short range, clattered off the wall behind her and fell to the floor, leaving a bloody smear. Instantly, the Mage was surrounded by a circle of soldiers, their crossbows cocked and aimed at her. Anvar, who had leapt from his bed regardless of the danger, only had time for a brief glimpse of her motionless form before he was seized and dragged from the room.