Paladin of Souls

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

LORD DY BAOCIA AND SER DY FERREJ LED THE RUSH TO ISTA'S side. The red stallion laid his ears back, squealed, and snapped his teeth, and both men recoiled several feet.

"Five gods, Ista," dy Baocia cried, temporarily diverted, "that horse!" Who was mad enough to put you up on such a beast?"

Ista patted Demon's neck. "He suits me very well. He belongs to Lord Illvin, in part, but I suspect he may become a permanent loan."

"From both his masters, it seems," murmured Illvin. He glanced across the camp. "Royina—Ista—love, I must report first to March dy Oby." His expression grew grim. "His daughter is still trapped in Castle Porifors, if the walls hold as I pray."

Along with Liss and dy Cabon, Ista reflected, and added her silent prayers to his. She felt the walls yet held, but in truth her only certainty was that Goram still lived; and she'd been mistaken before.

"With the news we bring," Illvin continued, "I expect his troop will ride within the hour. I cringe to think what rumors have come to him by now of my brother's fate. There is much to do."

"Five gods speed you. Of your many burdens, I am one the less now. These people here will cosset me to distraction, if I know them." She added sternly, "You spare some care for yourself, too. Don't make me come after you again."

A grin ghosted across his mouth. "Would you follow me to the Bastard's hell, dear sorceress?"

"Without hesitation, now that I know the road."

He leaned across his saddlebow and caught her hand, and raised it to his lips. She gripped his hand in turn and bore it to her own lips, and nipped his knuckle secretly, which made his eyes glint. With reluctance, they released each other.

"Foix," Illvin called, "attend upon me. Your testimony is urgently required."

Dy Baocia turned eagerly to Foix. "Do I have you to thank, young man, for the rescue of my sister?"

"No, Provincar," said Foix, giving him a polite salute. "She rescued me."

Dy Baocia and dy Ferrej stared at him rather blankly. Ista became conscious of the bizarre picture they must present: Foix, gray with exhaustion, wearing Jokonan gear; Illvin a hollow-eyed, reeking scare-crow in the most elegant of court mourning; herself in rumpled white festival dress splashed with brown blood, barefoot, bruised, and scratched, her escaping hair completing the impression of general dementia.

"Look after the royina," Foix said to Ferda, "then come to Oby's tent. We have strange and great tales to tell." He clapped his brother on the shoulder and turned to follow Illvin.

Temporarily unmenaced by Ista's erratic steed, Ferda came to Demon's shoulder to help her down. Ista was dizzy with fatigue, but she stayed determinedly upright.

"See that this dreadful horse is well cared for. He bore Lord Arhys faithfully last night. Your brother rode in that great sortie as well, and endured capture and grievous use. He needs rest, if you can make him take it in this uproar. We have all of us been up since dawn yesterday, through flight and siege and... and worse. Lord Illvin lost a great deal of blood last night. Make sure he gets drink and food immediately, at the least." She added, after a thoughtful pause, "And if he attempts to ride into battle in his present state, knock him down and sit on him. Although I trust he has more sense."

As soon as her horse was led out of range by a soldier of Oby, dy Ferrej pounced on Ista, practically wresting her from Ferda. "Royina! We have been in terror for your safety!"

And not without cause, in truth. "Well, I am safe now." Soothingly, she patted his hand gripping her arm.

Lady dy Hueltar tottered up, arm in arm with Divine Tovia. "Ista, Ista, lovie!"

Dy Baocia was looking intently after Illvin. "Now that you are all delivered to each other, I think I'd better attend on dy Oby as well." He managed a distracted smile at Ista. "Yes, yes, good."

"Did you bring troops of your own, brother?" Ista asked.

"Yes, five hundred of horse, all that I could muster in a hurry when these people descended upon me waving your alarming letter."

"Then by all means, attend upon Oby. Your guard may well have a chance to earn the coin you pay them. Chalion owes the garrison of Castle Porifors... much, but certainly relief above all, and that as soon as may be."

"Ah." He collected Ferda and dy Ferrej and hurried off after the other men, half in curiosity, half, Ista suspected, in eagerness to escape his importunate entourage.

The problem of explaining her own adventures to them without sounding like a raving madwoman, she discovered, could be put off— possibly indefinitely—by asking after their own journey. A mere query of "How did you come here so timely?" induced an answer that ran on until they reached dy Baocia's tents, and longer. The five hundred of horse, Ista found, had been trailed by what seemed a hundred more servants, grooms, and maids, in support of the dozen ladies from the courts of both Valenda and Taryoon who had accompanied Lady dy Hueltar on her self-appointed mission to bring Ista home. Dy Ferrej,

more or less in charge of shifting them all, was justly punished, Ista decided. That he had moved them such a distance in a week, instead of a month, was a near miracle in itself, and her respect for him, never low, rose another notch.

Ista cut though a plethora of plans by requesting a wash, food, and bed, in that order; Divine Tovia, always more practical than most of Ista's attendants, and with an eye to the blood on her gown, backed her up. The elderly physician managed to run off all but two maids, her own acolyte-assistant, and Lady dy Hueltar from the tent where she guided Ista for a bath and treatment. Ista had to admit, it was both comfortable and comforting to have those familiar hands about her, applying salve and bandages to her hurts. Tovia's curved sewing needle, too, was very fine and sharp, and her hands were quick about the wincing task of mending flesh where it was required.

"What in the world are these bruises?" Divine Tovia inquired.

Ista craned to see the back of her own thigh where the physician was pointing. Five dark purple spots were spaced around it. Her lips curved up, and she twisted about to spread her own fingers between them.

"Five gods, Ista," cried Lady dy Hueltar in horror, "who has dared to handle you so?"

"Those are from... yesterday. When Lord Illvin rescued me from the Jokonan column on the road. What excellent long fingers he does have! I wonder if he plays any musical instruments. I shall have to find out."

"Is Lord Illvin that odd tall fellow who rode in with you?" asked Lady dy Hueltar suspiciously. "I must say, I did not like the very forward way he kissed your hand."

"No? Well, he was pressed for time. I shall make him practice, later, until his technique improves."

Lady dy Hueltar looked offended, but Divine Tovia, at least, snorted a little.

Ista was laid down in a tent under a guard of ladies, but rose again to peek out, despite her nightgown, at the sound of many horses thundering out of the camp. It was only late afternoon; on this long summer day Oby's cavalry would be descending on Porifors with hours of light still left for their work. The timing, Ista thought, was excellent. Maximum confusion, disorder, and dismay would have spread through the Jokonan forces from the dire events of noon, and the chances that competent leadership had yet reemerged—especially from the habits of sullen mindless obedience extracted by Joen—were slight.

She let herself be coaxed back to bed by those who loved her. Though the Ista they thought they loved, she supposed, was an imaginary one, a woman who existed only in their own minds, part icon, part habit.

The reflection did not depress her unduly, now that she knew someone who loved the Ista who was real. She fell asleep thinking of him.

ISTA AWOKE FROM UGLY DREAMS NOT, SHE THOUGHT, ENTIRELY HER own, to the sound of female voices arguing.

"Lady Ista wants to sleep, after her ordeal," said Lady dy Hueltar firmly. "I will not have her troubled further."

"No," said Liss in a puzzled tone, "the royina will want the report from Porifors. We started before dawn to bring it to her as swiftly as we could."

Ista lumbered up from her sheets. "Liss!" she cried. "In here!" It appeared she had slept the short summer night through; it sufficed.

"Now see what you've done!" said Lady dy Hueltar in aggravation.

"What?" Liss's bafflement was genuine; she had not Ista's years of training in deciphering her now-senior lady-in-waiting's oblique locutions. Ista translated it handily as I didn't want to travel again today, and now I'll have to, drat you, girl.

A leap from her cot, Ista discovered, wasn't going to occur. She did manage to lever herself painfully to her feet before the tent flap was thrown back, admitting a level golden light and a grinning Liss. Ista embraced her; she embraced Ista back. The grin and Liss's presence seemed almost all the report she needed. Porifors is relieved. There were no more devastating deaths last night. The rest might be learned in order, or no order, as it came.

"Sit," said Ista, not releasing Liss's hands. "Tell me everything."

"Lady Ista needs to be dressed before receiving petitioners," said Lady dy Hueltar sternly.

"Excellent notion," said Ista. "Do go and find me some clothing to wear. Riding dress."

"Oh, Ista, you won't be riding anywhere today, after all you've been through! You need to rest."

"Actually," Liss put in, "March dy Oby has sent some officers to see the camp is broken down and shifted to Porifors as quick as may be. Ferda is waiting with some of your brother's men to guard you on the way, Royina, as soon as you are ready. Unless you prefer to ride in a cart with the baggage train."

"She will surely want to ride in the wagons with us," said Lady dy Hueltar.

"Tempting," Ista lied, "but no. I'll ride my horse."

Lady dy Hueltar sniffed balefully and withdrew.

Ista continued eagerly to Liss, "Oh, you will laugh at my new horse. It has come to me as the spoils of war, I think, though I may persuade Illvin to make it a court gift, which would amuse him. It's Illvin's vile red stallion."

"The one that possessed the stray elemental?"

"Yes; it has conceived a sudden adoration for me, and abases itself in the most appalling unhorselike fashion. You will find it quite reformed, or if you don't, let me know, and I'll put the fear of its god in it again. But say on, dear Liss."

"Well, the castle and town are secured, and the Jokonans driven off or taken—most of them fled north, but there may be some stragglers still lurking."

"Or just plain lost," said Ista dryly. "It wouldn't be the first time."

Liss snickered. "We have captured Prince Sordso and his whole retinue, which has pleased Lord Illvin and March dy Oby no end. They say the prince has gone mad. Is it true you ensorcelled him to hack up the dowager princess?"

"No," said Ista. "All I did was remove the sorcery that was preventing him from doing so. I rather think it was a wild impulse on his part, soon regretted. Joen was dead before his sword struck her; the Bastard took her soul. I wonder if it would be a relief or a regret to Sordso to know that? I should probably tell him in any case. Go on. What of Lady Cattilara, and our stalwart divine?"

"Well, we all watched from the walls as the Jokonans marched you off. And then it got all quiet for a little, and then we could hear some terrible uproar at the those big green tents, but we could not make out what was happening. Lady Cattilara surprised us all. After you and Lord Illvin were made hostage, or so we all thought, she rose from her bed. She drove her ladies to defend the walls, since almost all of the men were too sick to stand by then—it seems they make a game of archery here, and the Jokonan sorcerers' spells had not destroyed their sporting bows. Some of the ladies proved quite good shots. They had not the power to penetrate mail, but I saw Lady Catti herself put an arrow right through a rude Jokonan officer's eye. Learned dy Cabon stood with her—she swore that Porifors would not fall while she was still its chatelaine. Me, I threw rocks—if you fling one from a high enough tower, it hits quite hard by the time it lands on its target, even if you don't have a strong throwing arm.

"We could see the Jokonans were just probing, but we bit them till they bled nonetheless. I think we could not have held for long against a determined assault, but we discouraged them from attempting the walls at once—and then it was too late, for the march of Oby's forces struck and swept them away. Lady Catti was quite splendid when she opened the gates to her father. I thought she would break down and weep when he embraced her, for he did, but instead she was very stern."

"What of Goram?"

"He helped hold the walls with us. He was exhausted and feverish this morning, which is why Lord Illvin did not dispatch him to you, he told me to tell you. Since if you are riding to Porifors this morning, it made no sense to send Goram twice ten miles to meet you at almost the same time anyway."

"Excellent thinking. Yes. I will ride at once." She looked around; Lady dy Hueltar was bustling back into the tent leading a maid carrying an armload of clothing. "Ah, good."

Ista's satisfaction died as she saw the dress the maid was shaking out for her; a fine layered silk, suitable for a court function, in widow's dark green. "This is not riding dress."

"Of course not, dear Ista," said Lady dy Hueltar. "It is for you to wear to breakfast with us all."

"I shall take a cup of tea and a bite of bread, if such may be had in this camp, and ride at once."

"Oh, no," said Lady dy Hueltar, in a tone of earnest correction. "The meal is being prepared. We are all so looking forward to celebrating having you with us again, just as it should be."

The feast would take two hours, Ista estimated, maybe three. "One mouth the less will not be missed. You all must eat anyway before you break camp; it will not be wasted."

"Now, Lady Ista, do have sense."

Ista's voice dropped. "I ride. If you will not bring me the clothing I asked for, I will send Liss through the camp to beg me some. And if none is to be had, I'll ride in my nightgown. Or naked, if I must."

"I'd share my clothes with you, Royina," Liss offered at once, clearly bemused by that last image.

"I know you would, Liss." Ista patted her shoulder.

Lady dy Hueltar drew herself up in offense, or possibly defense. "Lady Ista, you mustn't be so wild!" Her voice grew hushed. "You wouldn't want people thinking you had been overtaken by your old troubles again, after all."

Ista was tempted, for a dangerous moment, to test just how much sorcerous power the Bastard had endowed her with. But the target was too small and unworthy, pitiable in her way. A natural sycophant, Lady dy Hueltar had made her way in the world most comfortably for the past two decades as companion to the old Provincara, enjoying an imagined indispensability and the status lent her by her august patron. It was clear she wished that pleasant existence to continue; and it could, if only Ista would move into her mother's place and take up her mother's life. All just as before, indeed.

Ista turned to the maid. "You, girl—fetch me some riding clothes. White if they may be had, or whatever color, but in any case, not green."

The girl's mouth opened in panic; she glanced back and forth between Ista and Lady dy Hueltar, torn between conflicting authorities. Ista's eyes narrowed.

"Why must you even go to Porifors?" asked Lady dy Hueltar. Her seamed face worked with distress, close to tears. "With your brother's troop to escort us, we could surely start back to Valenda right from here!"

She must take deeper thought for Lady dy Hueltar, Ista decided, for in truth her years of service had earned her some consideration. But for the moment, Ista meant to ride. She unclenched her teeth and said mildly, "Funerals, dear Lady dy Hueltar. They will be burying the dead today at Porifors. It is my solemn duty to attend. I will wish you to bring me the proper attire when you follow on."

"Oh, funerals," said Lady dy Hueltar, in a tone of relieved enlightenment. "Funerals, oh, of course." She had accompanied the old Provincara to a multitude of such ceremonies. It only seemed their primary entertainment in late years, Ista supposed dryly, though she'd be hard-pressed to name a commoner one. But Lady dy Hueltar understood funerals.

She won't understand these. But it wouldn't matter. For the moment, at least, her customary role seemed safely confirmed to her. The old lady brightened instantly.

She actually unbent so far as to go find Ista riding dress, while Liss went to saddle Demon and Ista gulped tea and bread. The costume's pale tan color even looked good atop the chestnut stallion, Ista fancied, settling at last into the saddle. The ride would limber her stiff body, at least. She had a lingering headache, but she knew its cause; and its cure lay in Porifors. Ferda waved on his Baocian troop, and Liss fell in at her side. They pressed forward through the bright morning air.

A RELAY OF DY OBY'S MEN WERE HAULING OUT RUBBLE FROM THE gates of Porifors as Ista's party rode in. Ista watched them work with glad approval. The rebuilding would be a longer project, but with so many hands, at least the clearing and cleaning would be swiftly accomplished.

The forecourt was already swept out. The limp flowers in the two or three pots left intact on the wall even seemed to be lifting their heads again; Ista was obscurely grateful, in all the noisy confusion, that someone had spared a bit of water for them, and she wondered whose hand it had been. The apricot and the almond trees, though half-denuded, had also stopped dropping leaves. She hoped they would recover.

We can do better than hope, she realized, and thought to them, Live. By the Bastard's blessing, I command you. If this lent the trees any special vigor, it was not instantly apparent; she trusted the ultimate results would not prove peculiar.

Ista's heart lifted to see Lord Illvin striding through the archway. He was cleaned up, hair rebraided, freshly dressed as an officer of Porifors; it even seemed possible that he might have snatched a few hours of sleep. The shorter, stouter Lord dy Baocia pattered by his side, puffing to keep pace. At dy Baocia's other shoulder Learned dy Cabon trod, waving eagerly at her. To her relief, a tired-looking Goram trailed immediately after them.

Cautiously, Goram took her horse's head, eyeing the beast's new docility askance. Ista slipped from her saddle into Illvin's upreaching arms, returning his secret embrace on her way to the ground.

"Greetings, Ista," said Lord dy Baocia. "Are you, um, all right now?" He bore a slightly dazed expression, as might any commander touring the inside of Castle Porifors this morning. His smile upon her was not nearly so vague as Ista was used to; in fact, she suspected she had all his attention. It felt very odd.

"Thank you, brother, I am well; a little tired, but doubtless less fatigued than many here." She glanced at dy Cabon. "How do the sick men fare?"

"We've had no more deaths since yesterday noon, five gods be thanked." He signed himself in heartfelt gratitude. "A few are even back on their feet, though I judge the rest will be as long recovering as from less uncanny illnesses. Most have been moved down to town, into the care of the temple or their relatives."

"That is good to hear."

"Foix and Lord Illvin have told us of the great deeds and miracles you performed yesterday in the Jokonans' tents, by the grace of the Bastard. Is it true you died?"

"I ... am not sure."

"I am," muttered Illvin. His hand had somehow neglected to release hers; they both tightened.

"I did have a very odd vision, which I promise I will recount to you at some less hurried moment, Learned." Well, parts of it, anyway.

"For all my terror, how I wish I, too, could have been there to bear witness, Royina! I should have counted myself blessed above all in my order."

"Oh? Well, stay a moment, then. I have another task, which presses on me. Liss, please take my horse. Goram, come here."

Looking puzzled and wary, Goram obeyed, trudging up to her and giving her a daunted bob of his head. "Royina." His hands clenched each other nervously, and he shot a look of supplication at his master. Illvin's eyes narrowed in concern, and his glance at Ista sharpened.

Ista stared one last time at the hollow gaps in Goram's soul, placed her palms upon his forehead, and poured a sudden flood of white fire out of her spirit hands into those dark and empty reservoirs. The fire splashed wildly in its new confines, then slowly settled, as if seeking its proper level. She breathed relief as the unpleasant pressure in her head vanished.

Goram thumped down cross-legged on the cobbles, his mouth open. He buried his face in his hands. After a moment, his shoulders began to shake. "Oh," he said in a faraway voice. He started to weep— in shock, Ista supposed, and in other, more complicated reactions. Her last night's dreams had given her some intimations.

"Lord Illvin, brother, may I introduce Captain Goram dy Hixar, late of Roya Orico's cavalry via the service of Lord Dondo dy Jironal. More recently of service, if an involuntary one, to Sordso of Jokona, as sword master and horseman. In a sense."

Goram looked up from his sobbing, his face stunned. Stunned, but not slack: its shape seemed to tighten along with the mending mind underneath.

"You have returned his memories and his wits? But Ista, this is wonderful!" cried Illvin. "Now he may find his family and his home at last!"

"Just what it is, remains to be seen," murmured Ista. "But his soul is now his own, and complete."

Goram's steel-gray eyes met hers, and for a moment, did not look away. They were filled with amazement, and a roil of other emotions; she rather thought one of them was anguish. She gave him a grave nod, acknowledging it all. He returned a shaken jerk of his head.

"Learned," she continued, "you begged a gift of witness, and you have it. Please help Captain dy Hixar back to his chamber. He needs to rest quietly, for until he has time to put them back in order, his mind and memories will be very unsettled. Some spiritual comfort... may not come amiss, when he is ready."

"Indeed, Royina," said dy Cabon, signing himself joyously. "It will be my honor." He helped Goram—dy Hixar—to his feet, and led him off through the archway. Illvin stared after, then turned his dark eyes thoughtfully on her.

Dy Baocia inquired in a small voice, "Ista, what just happened?"

"Princess Joen, through her demon, was in the habit of stealing useful bits of other people's souls for her sorcerers. From, among others, prisoners of war. Prince Sordso was her greatest construct, and full of such fragments. When Sordso's demon passed through me yesterday, the god gave it to me to recognize and retain the portion of Captain dy Hixar woven among the rest, and to return it to him here. It is part of the task the Bastard has laid on me, to hunt demons in the world, pluck them from their mounts, and relay them to His hell."

"This task ... is now done, yes?" he said hopefully. Or, possibly, worriedly. He glanced around the shambles of Porifors. "Yesterday, right?"

"No, I expect it is only beginning. In the past three years Joen released a very plague of elementals. They have escaped all over the Five Princedoms and the royacies, though their greatest concentration is likely still in Jokona. The woman who had this calling before me was killed in Rauma. It is not an easy, not an easy... duty to train for. If I read the god aright—He delights in obscurity and riddles—I think He wanted a successor who would be rather better guarded, through what promises to be a, ah, theologically difficult period."

Illvin's eyes glinted, listening to this. He murmured, "Much becomes clear."

"He told me He did not want to train another porter," Ista added, "and that He fancied a royina for a time. His exact words." She let her slight pause emphasize this last. "I am called. I come." And you may either help, brother, or get out of my way. "I expect to form a traveling court, small and adaptable; the god's duties are likely to continue physically wearing. My clerk—as soon as I appoint one—and yours must deal shortly with forwarding my dower income, as I doubt my tasks will take me back to Valenda."

Dy Baocia digested it all for a moment, then cleared his throat and said cautiously, "My men are setting up our camp by the spring to the east of the castle; will you take your ease there, Ista, or return to your rooms in here?"

Ista glanced up at Illvin. "That will be for Porifors's chatelaine to decide. But until this fortress has had more time to recover, I would not burden it with my expanded household. I will rest in your camp for a while."

Illvin gave her a short nod in appreciation of her delicacy, and all that went unspoken in it: until after the dead are buried.

Her brother offered to escort her to his tents, as he was going in that direction, and Illvin gave her a formal bow of temporary farewell.

"My duties today are relentless," Illvin murmured, "but later I must discuss with you the matter of an appropriate guard company for this traveling court of yours."

"Indeed," she returned. "And other appointments as well."

"And callings."

"Those, too."

PEJAR AND HIS TWO SLAIN COMRADES OF THE DAUGHTER'S ORDER were buried outside the walls of Porifors that afternoon. Ista and all her company attended upon them. Learned dy Cabon had come to Ista in distress, earlier, for while he might officiate—none better, in Ista's view—he had no sacred animals to sign the gods' acceptances; those belonging to Porifors's own temple were overburdened and reported close to frenzied with the day's demands.

"Learned," she had chided him gently. "We do not need the animals. We have me."

"Ah," he said, rocking back. "Oh. As you are made saint again—of course."

She knelt, now, in the sunlight by each wrapped form in turn, laid her hand upon its brow, and prayed for their signs. In rites at major temples like the one in Cardegoss, each order proffered a sacred animal, appropriate in color and sex to the god or goddess it represented, with an acolyte-groom to handle it. The creatures were led in turn to the bier, and by their behavior the divines interpreted to the mourners which god had taken in their lost one's soul, and therefore where to direct their prayers—and, not incidentally, upon which order's altar to lay their more material offerings. The rite brought consolation to the living, support to the Temple, and occasionally some surprises.

She had often wondered what the animals trained to this duty felt. She was relieved when she experienced no holy hallucinations: merely a silent certainty. Pejar and the first of his comrades were taken up by the Daughter of Spring, Whom they had served so faithfully, she felt at once, and so she reported. The last man, she discovered, was different.

"Curious," she said to Ferda and Foix. "The Father of Winter has taken Laonin. I wonder if it is for the sake of his courage on Arhys's ride—or if he has a child somewhere? He was not married, was he?"

"Urn, no," said Ferda. He glanced at dy Cabon's whites and swallowed whatever embarrassment he might have felt on the dead dedicat's behalf.

Ista rose from the graveside. "Then I charge you to find out, and see that the child, if it lives, is cared for. I will write to Holy General dy Yarrin as well. It shall have a purse from me to maintain its infancy, and a claim on a place in my household when it comes of age, if it desires."

"Yes, Royina," said Ferda. Surreptitiously, he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

Ista nodded satisfaction. As a conscientious officer, he would not fail in this task, she was sure.

The shaded grove reserved for the castle's dead overlooked the pleasant river; many graves were still being dug, and other grieving people, comrades and relatives of the slain, had watched their company's rites. What rumors were circulating about her in Porifors Ista hardly knew, but within the hour humble petitioners had descended upon dy Cabon to beg the royal saint's indulgence for their dead.

As a result Ista spent the day until darkness fell being conducted by dy Cabon and Liss from graveside to graveside, reporting the fates of souls. There were too many, but the task was not so endless as the devastation Joen's sorcerers would have left across Chalion if not stopped by Porifors's sacrifices. Ista refused none who asked her aid, for most surely, these had not refused her. Every mourner seemed to have some story to tell her of their dead; not, she realized at length, in the expectation that she would do anything, except listen. Attend. Royina, see this man; make him real in your mind, as in ours; for in the realm of matter, he lives now only in our memories. She listened till her ears and heart both ached.

Returning to her brother's tents after nightfall, she fell onto her cot like a corpse herself. As the night drew on, she told over the names, faces, fragments of men's lives in her thoughts. How could the gods' minds hold all these tales in full? For They remember us perfectly.

At length, exhausted, she rolled over and slept.