The Dark-Eyes War

Chapter 26

They watched in silence as the Eandi army marched away from the plain. Grinsa stood with L'Norr, H'Loryn, and O'Tal, fearing that at any moment one of the Fal'Borna, or perhaps one of the Eandi, would decide that ending this war was a mistake. He sensed that L'Norr regretted acquiescing to the rest, and he actually found himself keeping a light hold on his own magic, just in case he had to stop the young Weaver from striking at the retreating soldiers.

As it happened, his precautions proved unnecessary, and before long the Eandi had vanished from view, leaving the Fal'Borna army alone on the plain. The air was turning cold again, and dark clouds loomed in the west. Grinsa caught the scent of snow riding the wind.

L'Norr stared eastward longer than the rest, but at last he turned to Grinsa and said, "Tell the a'jeis I want to be riding within the hour. We have a long journey back to the sept."

"Yes, A'Laq," Grinsa said.

L'Norr steered his mount away from the others.

"You're his only Weaver now," O'Tal said, watching the young man ride off.

"He has D'Pera," Grinsa said. "And her daughter shows signs of being a Weaver."

"How long have you lived among the Fal'Borna, Forelander?"

Grinsa hesitated, knowing what the man was going to say. "Long enough to know that an a'laq cares far more about the number of men who are Weavers."

O'Tal nodded. "D'Pera will be able to help him as he learns what it means to be a'laq, but she's not a warrior. And U'Vara will probably be his n'qlae before long. But his sept has lost two Weavers. He needs you now more than ever."

He might as well have said, He'll never let you leave now. That was how Grinsa heard his words. He'd been hoping that with the end of the war he and Cresenne would be able to get away from the plain, to make a life elsewhere for themselves and Bryntelle. He still believed that they could leave now-L'Norr and D'Pera wouldn't be strong enough to keep them there against their will. But there could be no denying that L'Norr would want him to stay.

"It's too bad, really," O'Tal said. "If E'Menua had lived, I would have asked you to come and live in my sept."

Grinsa looked at him. "What?"

"You didn't seem to like E'Menua very much, and he didn't seem fond of you. And I think you and I could be good friends."

"I think so, too, A'Laq," Grinsa said, smiling. "Thank you for saying so."

"Would you consider it?"

The Forelander looked away.

"You can speak honestly with me."

Grinsa rubbed a hand over his face and looked at the man once more. "It's not that I wouldn't be honored to be part of your sept. But I'm not sure that the plain is the right place for my family and me."

O'Tal seemed to consider this for a few moments. If he was angry or insulted, he showed no sign of it. "Where is the right place, then?" he asked eventually.

"I don't know yet. But I should find the a'jeis, as my a'laq asked me to. Please excuse me."

He found the warriors together not far from where he'd been talking to O'Tal, and told them that their a'laq wished to be riding soon. They listened to him in silence, eyeing him warily, but they moved quickly to follow his orders, and within the hour the warriors of E'Menua's sept were ready to follow their new a'laq home.

It seemed that the Fal'Borna were not given to long good-byes. H'Loryn wished Grinsa and L'Norr well, but was more concerned with readying his own men for their ride home. O'Tal was similarly distracted, and he and L'Norr barely acknowledged each other. It seemed that O'Tal's rivalry with E'Menua would not soon be forgotten. He smiled warmly at Grinsa, though. When L'Norr was out of earshot O'Tal said, "If you decide to stay on the plain, let me know. I'd like to hunt with you again. Next time we'll get you a buck."

Grinsa laughed. "Thank you, A'Laq. I'd like that, too."

He rejoined L'Norr and the rest of E'Menua's warriors, and soon they were riding southward back toward the sept.

Their journey home was uneventful. Grinsa had expected that L'Norr would wish to speak with him, but the young Weaver kept to himself, speaking to Grinsa only when he wanted him to convey orders to the other riders. That first night after the Eandi marched away from the battle plain, Grinsa reached out with his magic to speak with Cresenne. He told her about the battle that had been fought and the loss of E'Menua and Q'Daer. Mostly he simply held her and asked about Bryntelle.

As he was about to leave her dream to let her sleep, he remembered to ask how Besh and Sirj were faring.

"They're doing well," she said brightly. "They're heroes."

"They're what?"

And as he listened in stunned silence, Cresenne told him of the sept's battle against the J'Balanar. When she had finished her tale, Grinsa couldn't think of anything to say. He just stood before her, shaking his head, muttering, "Amazing, just amazing."

As he and the Fal'Borna riders drew closer to the sept, Grinsa began to wonder if L'Norr had spoken with D'Pera to let her know that E'Menua had been killed. Grinsa and Cresenne had agreed that it probably wasn't her place to convey such tidings to the n'qlae. But he didn't know what the new a'laq intended to do about this. On the fifth night of their journey back to the sept, he finally decided that as L'Norr's lone Weaver, it was up to him to raise the question.

As usual, L'Norr sat by a small fire, apart from the other warriors. When Grinsa drew near to where L'Norr sat, he called to him by title.

"Yes, what is it?" L'Norr asked, not bothering to look at him.

Grinsa didn't answer until he had reached the fire. "Forgive me, A'Laq. But I was wondering…" He faltered. "I was wondering if you had heard of the raid on our sept."

L'Norr gaped at him. "A raid?"

Grinsa nodded and briefly related what Cresenne had told him about their skirmish with the J'Balanar, taking care to include all that Besh and Sirj had done to protect the sept.

When he'd finished, L'Norr shook his head. "The J'Balanar have no shame. They've always been cowards." He said nothing about the Mettai. Grinsa didn't either; he had a far more difficult matter to discuss with the man.

"I take it then," he said, "that you haven't yet spoken with the n'qlae, to… to tell her of E'Menua's fate."

For some time L'Norr didn't answer, and Grinsa wondered if he had angered the man. But finally L'Norr rubbed a hand over his face and shook his head. "I don't know how to tell her." He looked up at Grinsa. "Perhaps you should do it for me. Do you have experience with such things?"

"I could do it for you. But I didn't know if this was something that…"

"That an a'laq is supposed to do for himself?" L'Norr said, finishing Grinsa's thought.

"Yes."

L'Norr nodded slowly, gazing into his fire again. "She's been my n'qlae for nearly as long as I can remember. And now I have to tell her that her husband is dead, and I'm a'laq of the sept. Yes, it's something I have to do. I just don't know how."

"She's strong, A'Laq. She's Fal'Borna. She knew that this might happen."

"You're right. I'll speak with her tonight." He didn't look at Grinsa again.

After a few moments of silence, Grinsa said, "Thank you, A'Laq," and walked away.

The following morning, as they prepared to ride, L'Norr caught Grinsa's eye and nodded once. They didn't speak of their conversation again.

The riders reached the sept two days later. Though they hadn't been gone long, Grinsa's reunion with Cresenne and Bryntelle was sweeter even than it had been when he had returned to the sept with Q'Daer, Besh, and Sirj. Warriors were welcomed home by parents and wives and children, and L'Norr was received as the sept's new a'laq without question.

E'Menua, Q'Daer, and the other warriors who had been killed were honored with song and silence, and that night L'Norr was honored with a somber feast. Grinsa and Cresenne attended, as they were expected to do, though they wanted only to be alone together.

Besh and Sirj, on the other hand, were told courteously but firmly that they were not welcome at the feast. D'Pera sat alone, though Grinsa noticed that throughout the evening her people approached her singly or in pairs and spoke to her quietly. Eventually Grinsa and Cresenne did the same.

It felt awkward to offer his condolences; D'Pera knew all too well that Grinsa and E'Menua hadn't liked each other. But she greeted them graciously.

"We're sorry for your loss, N'Qlae," Grinsa said, as they stood before her. "The a'laq loved you very much. He told me to tell you so."

"You were with him when he died?" Her voice was steady, but tears shone in her eyes.

"I tried to heal him, but there was poison in his blood. I couldn't fight it."

"But you tried. Thank you for that." She hesitated. "You were right about the Mettai. Your wife has told you how they saved us?"

Grinsa nodded, noting to himself that this once she didn't falter at the word "wife."

"Yes, she told me."

"That's twice that they saved us-that all of you saved us. You have our gratitude."

Grinsa wanted to ask if that meant they would let Besh and Sirj leave the sept, but he thought that was a discussion best left for another day. He and Cresenne bowed to the n'qlae and returned to where they had been sitting.

The feast seemed destined to go on through much of the night, but eventually Grinsa and Cresenne left on the pretense of needing to put Bryntelle to bed. Judging from the way Cresenne's friend F'Solya looked at them, though, they weren't fooling anyone.

Back in their z'kal, they put their daughter in her small bed before undressing and slipping under their blankets. After that, Grinsa lost track of the time, caring only for the taste of Cresenne's lips and the soft warmth of her skin.

Later, as they lay together, their desire sated at least for a time, Cresenne said, "So what now?"

Grinsa was running his hands through her hair, and he laughed. "What did you have in mind?"

She propped herself up on one elbow. "I'm serious, Grinsa. Where do we go from here? I don't want to stay with the Fal'Borna, but I don't know where we should go next."

"Neither do I," he said, turning serious. "We can't leave here until we know that Besh and Sirj are safely away from the sept. But after that…" He shrugged.

"We should head west," she said. "North and west. I don't want to go near the J'Balanar, but I want to get away from here."

"All right," he said. He felt the kernel of an idea forming, but he didn't know if it was even possible, and he wasn't ready to say anything that might get Cresenne's hopes up.

"What are you thinking?" she asked.

"That I'll go anywhere you want me to," he said, which was true. She smiled and kissed him. "Good."

Grinsa waited a few days before seeking an audience with the new a'laq. As the lone male Weaver in the sept, he spent a good deal of time alone outside L'Norr's z'kal, but the young Weaver said little to him, and at least at first, Grinsa was reluctant to intrude on the A'Laq's solitude.

But Grinsa had also spoken several times with Besh and Sirj. Now that the war had ended, both of them were eager to be on their way back to their home village.

"We helped them fight off the J'Balanar raiders," Sirj said with quiet intensity. "They should be willing to let us go."

"I'll do what I can," Grinsa told him.

That same day, he went to see L'Norr in his z'kal.

It was warm and dark within, and it smelled of smoke and cooking meat. "Forgive the intrusion, A'Laq," Grinsa said.

"It's all right," the man said, motioning for him to sit. "Let me see if I can tell you why you've come. You want to know if I intend to let the Mettai leave."

Grinsa smiled and nodded. "That's part of it, yes."

L'Norr grimaced. "I don't want to. That probably doesn't surprise you. The Mettai killed Q'Daer. Their serpent killed E'Menua. But I understand that these two helped fight off the J'Balanar, and that their magic actually did protect us from the plague." He paused, eyeing Grinsa. "D'Pera has done as you asked. She's convinced me to let them go."

"I'm grateful for that, A'Laq, but you should know that I didn't ask her to speak with you. She did this on her own."

L'Norr appeared genuinely surprised by this. "Really?"

"I swear it."

The man seemed to weigh this briefly. "Well, regardless, the Mettai can leave whenever they're ready. I'll trust you to let them know."

"Thank you, A'Laq."

The man regarded him expectantly. "You indicated there was more." Grinsa nodded but said nothing, suddenly unsure of how to proceed. L'Norr watched him for several moments, and then abruptly his eyes widened and the color fled his cheeks. "You want to leave, too."

"Yes, A'Laq."

The young Weaver looked away. "Damn," he said.

"I know that-"

"You'd be leaving me with no Weavers aside from D'Pera."

"U'Vara will be a Weaver."

To Grinsa's surprise, the color rushed back into L'Norr's face, so that it turned bright crimson.

"I know that," the a'laq said. "But I'd have no warriors who could weave."

"We can't stay here, A'Laq. I respect the Fal'Borna-truly I do-but this isn't the life Cresenne and I want for ourselves or for our daughter."

L'Norr wouldn't look at him. "So long as you're with us, you'll never want for anything. You'll be part of the most powerful clan in all the Southlands."

"I thank you for that."

"But it doesn't change your mind."

Grinsa took a breath. "No, A'Laq, it doesn't."

"I see." His eyes flicked toward Grinsa for just an instant, but then he looked away again. "I won't keep you here against your will, but I would ask you to take a few more days and think about this."

"Of course, A'Laq." Grinsa stood. "Thank you."

Before Grinsa could leave, L'Norr asked, "Where would you go?" Grinsa shook his head. "We don't know yet."

E_ven after Grinsa had told him twice, Besh couldn't quite believe that he had heard the Forelander correctly. "They really will let us go?" he said. "Whenever we want?"

Grinsa and Cresenne were both smiling. Even their baby had a huge grin on her pale, beautiful face.

"Whenever you want," Grinsa told him.

"First light," Sirj said. "I want to leave in the morning."

It was cold and it had begun to snow. Besh had no doubt that the journey home would be difficult and long. But he was every bit as eager to be leaving as Sirj.

"Yes," he agreed. "First light."

"Will you be coming with us?" Sirj asked the Forelander and his wife.

The two Qirsi shared a look and then Grinsa shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not. I don't know yet where we're going, but we've been in the sovereignties, and they weren't at all welcoming."

"No," Besh said. "I don't suppose they were."

"I believe I can prevail upon the Fal'Borna to give you food and horses," Grinsa said. "Cresenne and I can even give you some gold if you need it."

"We don't," Besh said. "But thank you. We'd welcome the food and horses, though."

Grinsa and Cresenne left them for a time, saying that they wanted to give Besh and Sirj a chance to gather their belongings. In truth, though, the Mettai had precious little with them. They put their clothes in their travel sacks, and they were done.

They had been granted the freedom to go anywhere in the sept, but they rarely took advantage of this, preferring to remain near their shelter, where they felt most comfortable. On this day, however, Besh insisted that they go to see the n'qlae. Sirj seemed reluctant, but he followed anyway, as Besh knew he would. Sirj felt responsible for him, and would want to make sure that Besh was safe.

The n'qlae was in her z'kal, and she greeted the men with little warmth. "We'll be leaving tomorrow," Besh told her. "We simply wanted to thank you for helping as you did."

"I'm not sure I did very much," the woman said. "But you're welcome."

"We're sorry for the loss of the a'laq."

The n'qlae nodded, but said nothing.

"We're sorry as well for the death of the other Weaver, Q'Daer."

"He was closest to L'Norr, the new a'laq," the woman said. "I think you'd be best off staying away from him. He won't be interested in your sympathy."

Besh nodded, thinking that it had been a mistake to come speak with the woman. "Very well. Thank you, N'Qlae."

The two Mettai left her shelter and returned to their own. Neither of them said a word.

They ate their evening meal with Grinsa, Cresenne, and Bryntelle, and for once their conversation with the Forelanders didn't linger on matters of war or their captivity or even the Fal'Borna. They exchanged stories about their homelands and their families. They talked about magic. And they tried to ignore the fact that come the morning they would say good-bye and never see one another again. They stayed with Grinsa and Cresenne late into the night, lowering their voices after Bryntelle fell asleep. But still, the evening ended too soon.

The following morning Besh and Sirj awoke with first light and, upon emerging from their shelter, found a young Fal'Borna warrior waiting for them in the cold morning air. Two horses stood beside the man, each laden with a pair of leather sacks filled with dried rilda meat, smoked cheese, and hard bread. Besh thanked the man, who just nodded and left them.

As the warrior strode away, Grinsa and Cresenne arrived from a different direction.

"Is everything all right?" Grinsa asked, staring after the Fal'Borna. "Yes," Besh said. "Horses, food-this is all that we were hoping for." Grinsa frowned, glancing around the sept. "The a'laq hasn't come." Besh smiled ruefully. "No, but I didn't expect him."

"You saved the life of every man and woman here. You deserve more."

"We're Mettai," Besh said, as if that should have explained everything. Grinsa shook his head, looking like he might say more. But Cresenne placed a slender hand on his shoulder, and that seemed to calm him.

He stepped forward and gathered Sirj in a warm embrace. "You're a good man," the Forelander said. "May the gods grant you and your family a long, happy life together."

Sirj thumped him on the back. "Thank you, Grinsa. May they help you and yours find a home where you can be safe and live out your years in peace."

Grinsa stepped back, and Cresenne gave Sirj a light kiss on the cheek. "Thank you for saving my husband," she said.

Sirj laughed. "I think he returned the favor more than once."

Grinsa faced Besh, smiling sadly. "You still have F'Ghara's necklace?" he asked. "You might need it if you encounter any Fal'Borna on the way back." Besh patted his pocket. "I have it. But we'll try to avoid any septs just the same."

"Probably wise," Grinsa said. He regarded Besh for several moments. "I wish we'd had more time," he said. "I think I could have learned much from you."

"Thank you," Besh said. "I wonder if you would do me the honor of exchanging blades with me."

The Forelander looked puzzled.

"It's an old Mettai tradition," Besh told him. "A gesture of friendship and respect."

He pulled out his knife and offered it to Grinsa. After a moment, Grinsa took it. Then he pulled out his own blade and handed it to Besh.

"You honor me," Grinsa said.

Besh smiled. "That was my intention."

They embraced like brothers, and to Besh's surprise he found himself blinking back tears.

"Be well, Besh," Grinsa whispered. "May the rest of your days be filled with joy."

"And yours, Grinsa."

Besh released the man and turned to Cresenne. "Take care of him," he said. "He seems to spend much of his time taking care of others."

She smiled. "You've noticed that, have you?" She kissed Besh as she had Sirj. "I'll do my best. And who will take care of you?"

Besh smiled in turn. "Sirj will. And his wife, my daughter. And their children. I go home to a good life. You needn't worry about me."

"Good," Cresenne said. "Then I won't. I'll just thank you for all you did for us-and for the Southlands-and leave it at that."

Besh nodded, his eyes stinging again. He turned quickly to Sirj. "Let's be on our way," he said. "We've a long journey." He paused, looking at the Forelanders one last time. Then he climbed onto his horse and led Sirj out of the sept and onto the plain.

For a long time the two Mettai rode in silence, as a cold wind swirled around them. Besh had expected to feel cold and miserable throughout this ride back to Kirayde, and he thought it likely that there would be times when he would. But for this morning at least, his relief at being away from the Fal'Borna and on his way home was enough to keep him warm.

"Do you think they're all right?" Sirj asked suddenly. "Who?"

"Elica and the children."

Besh could picture them all in his mind-Elica, strong and long-limbed, her dark hair framing her face; Mihas, Annze, and Cam laughing at some joke one of them had told, their dark eyes dancing. And beside them all, he saw his beloved Ema, dead these many years, but still a presence in his heart and his memories. She looked at him now and smiled, as if to reassure him. To reassure them both.

"Yes," he said. "They're fine."

Sirj cast a look his way. Clearly he wanted to believe what Besh had said, but was afraid to. "How can you be so sure?" he asked.

Besh grinned. "Call it the intuition of an old man. They're well, and they can't wait to welcome us home."