Storm Warning - Mercedes Lackey [185]
An’desha stared at him. “You mean—all that was just to prove to me that—” He reddened again. “Why, I should—I—”
Karal raised an eyebrow at him. “And?” he said impudently. “Why don’t you, Adept?”
“Because you aren’t worth the effort it would take to blow you through the wall, Priest,” An’desha retorted, a ghost of a smile lurking around his eyes. “And because it’s not worth taking on your vengeful god as an enemy just so I can get some satisfaction! Damn you! Why do you have to be so right?”
“It’s not my fault!” Karal protested. “I can’t help it!”
“Pah!” The young mage mock-hit his shoulder. “You revel in it, and you damn well know you do! One of these days you’ll be wrong, and I’ll be there to gloat!” The ghost of a smile had become a grin. “Just wait and see!”
“I’ll be looking forward to it,” Karal replied, and he meant every word. A moment later, Firesong looked in on them both, with a small but loving smile on his handsome face.
After all that, though, he felt an obligation to be there along with Firesong when An‘desha worked up his own courage and took the plunge into those old, dangerous memories. It became something of a vigil for the two of them; An’desha lay in a self-imposed trance, looking much like a figure on a tomb, while the two of them watched, waited, and wondered if they might have been wrong in urging him to this. Firesong hadn’t expected it to take more than a mark or two, but the afternoon crawled by, then most of the evening, and still the trance showed no signs of ending.
“Is this getting dangerous?” Karal asked in a whisper, as Firesong soberly lit mage-lights and returned to his seat beside An’desha’s pallet.
“No—or not yet, anyway,” the Adept replied, although he sounded uncertain to Karal. “I have been in trances longer; for two or three days, even.”
But those were not trances in which you pursued the memories of power-hungry sadists, Karal added, but only to himself. Still, nothing had gone overtly wrong yet. There was no point in conjuring trouble.
He wished that Altra was here, though. The Firecat had waited just long enough to be sure that he had survived An’desha’s anger, then had vanished without an explanation. He could have used Altra’s view on this; if Solaris’ behavior was anything to go by, a former Son of the Sun should be much more familiar with trances and their effects than he was.
A hint of movement riveted his attention back on An’desha. Had his eyelids moved? If the lights had been candles, he would have put it down to the flickering shadows, but mage-lights were as steady as sunlight. Yes! There it was again, the barest flutter of eyelids as the sleeper slowly, gently awakened.
A moment later, and An‘desha opened his eyes and blinked in temporary confusion; Firesong poured the tea that had been steeping all this while, and helped him to sit up, then offered him the cup. An’desha took it, his hands shaking only slightly, and drank it down in a single swallow.
“How late is it?” he asked, as he gave the cup back to Karal, who poured more tea for him.
“Evening. Not quite midnight,” Firesong told him.
An‘desha nodded. Karal watched him covertly, and was relieved to see nothing in his expression or manner that was not entirely in keeping with the An’desha that he knew. “I discovered that we have been laboring under a misconception,” he said, finally. “Before Ma’ar died, there was a time when he had to deal with the kind of situation we have now, although the initial destruction was of a single Gate and the spells of the area around it, and nowhere near so cataclysmic as what came later.”
Firesong nodded with excitement in his eyes, and Karal leaned forward. “So what did he do?”
An‘desha sipped his tea before replying. “It isn’t so much what he did, as what his enemy did,” he said. “He wasn’t concerned with the effect of the waves outside his domain, so he simply built the sort of shield that I think we’ve been assuming we’d need all along.” An