Amber and Blood - Margaret Weis [107]
Galdar and Rhys walked together, both of them limping. Galdar grimaced and pressed his hand to his side. One of the minotaur’s eyes was swollen shut and blood trickled from the base of one of his horns. Rhys’s stomach and jaw both hurt, making breathing difficult and painful.
“Where will you go now?” Rhys asked.
“I will return to Jelek to resume my duties as ambassador to you humans. I doubt you want to go there,” he added with a wry glance at Rhys. “But my men and I will not abandon you. We will wait with you until help arrives.”
“Help may be long in coming.” Rhys spoke with an inward sigh.
“You think so?” Galdar asked, and a smile flickered on his lips. “You should have more faith, Monk.”
Rhys had no idea what the minotaur meant, but before he could ask, Galdar’s smile vanished. He glanced back into the valley of stone and black crystal.
“Mina went with him, didn’t she? She went with the Walking God.”
“I hope so,” Rhys replied. “I pray so.”
“I’m not much for praying,” Galdar said. “And if I did pray, I’d pray to Sargas, and I would guess the Horned God is not feeling kindly disposed toward me at the moment.”
He paused, then added somberly, “If I did pray, I would pray that Mina finds whatever it is she seeks.”
“You forgive her for what she did to you?” Rhys was astonished. Minotaurs were not known as a forgiving people. Their god was a god of vengeance.
“I suppose you could say I got into a habit of forgiving her.” Galdar rubbed the stump of his arm, grimacing. Strange that the pain of a missing arm was worse than the pain of cracked bones. He added half-ashamed, half-defiant, “What about you, Monk? Do you forgive her?”
“I walked my road once with hatred and revenge gnawing at my heart,” Rhys said. His gaze went to the minotaur who was carrying the small body, to the green cloak that fluttered in the still air. “I will not do so again. I forgive Mina and my prayer is the same as yours—that she finds what she seeks. Though I am not certain I should be praying for that.”
“Why not?”
“Whatever she finds will tip the scales of balance one way or the other.”
“The scales might tip in your direction, Monk,” Galdar suggested. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Rhys shook his head. “A man who stares at the sun too long is as blind as one who walks in pitch darkness.”
The two fell silent, saving their laboring breath for the climb out of the valley. The minotaur under Galdar’s command stood waiting for them among the foothills of the Lords of Doom. The minotaur looked grim, for the Faithful were also waiting there. Led by silent Elspeth, they had come to the valley, though too late to find Valthonis.
Galdar scowled at the elves. “You gave your oath,” he told them.
“We did not break faith with you,” said one of the elves. “We did not try to rescue Valthonis.”
The elf pointed to the cloak that covered the body of the kender. “That belongs to Valthonis! Where is he?” The elf glared at Galdar. “What have you done with him? Have you basely murdered him?”
“On the contrary. The minotaur saved Valthonis’s life,” Rhys replied.
The elves scowled in disbelief.
“Do you doubt my word?” Rhys asked wearily.
The leader of the Faithful bowed.
“We mean no offense, Servant of Matheri,” the elf said, using the elvish name for the god, Majere. “But you must understand that we find this difficult to comprehend. A monk of Matheri and a minotaur of Kinthalas walk together out of the Valley of Evil. What is going on? Is Valthonis alive?”
“He is alive and unharmed.”
“Then where is he?”
“He helps a lost child find her way home,” Rhys replied.
The elves glanced at other, mystified, some clearly still disbelieving. And then silent Elspeth walked over to stand in front of Galdar. One of the elves sought to stop her, but she thrust him aside. She reached out her hand to the minotaur.
“What’s this?” he demanded, frowning. “Tell her to stay away from me.”
Elspeth smiled in reassurance. As he watched, tense and frowning, she lightly brushed her fingers across the stump of his arm.
Galdar blinked. The