Sword of the Gods - Bruce R. Cordell [64]
Chant rapped on the door.
“Give it a moment,” she whispered.
They waited, and Demascus helped her sit in one of the two wooden chairs.
The door scraped open and a splinter of light cut across the patio. A silhouette in the doorway hesitated. A woman in the robes of a silverstar cleric of Selûne.
“Who is it?” came Carmenere’s voice.
Chant said, “It’s your friend Riltana. She’s hurt.”
The door opened, and Carmenere emerged.
“Rilta?” said Carmenere. Her brows furrowed with concern. Just seeing the earthsoul lightened the pain. A little.
“Heya. I … I’m sorry to bother you. But it’s important. See—”
Carmenere bent over and hugged her. In surprised reaction she tried to return the hug, but the embrace brought fresh torment to her burn, and she cried out.
“What’s wrong?” said Carmenere.
The pawnbroker said, “It’s my fault. A creditor came looking for me. He ambushed us, and I’m afraid your friend was caught in the crossfire.”
“A bastard stormsoul jacked me with lightning,” Riltana confirmed in a weak voice.
Carmenere laid a hand on Riltana’s forehead. Her palm was cool, and the touch all by itself soothed her feverish skin. Carmenere whispered, “Selûne, give this one peace.” Moonlight spilled from Carmenere’s hand, and washed Riltana in silvery radiance. It was like a gulping a tumbler of cool water after an afternoon of toiling in the dusty sun. The pain dwindled over several heartbeats, until it was a mere ache.
Riltana clutched Carmenere’s hands in silent thanks.
“I’m so glad you found her,” Carmenere said to Chant and Demascus.
Demascus nodded slowly, as if still distracted by Carmenere’s display of divine magic. He said, “We had to; she had something I needed.”
What had Carmenere meant, she thought, about finding her? How had Carmenere known she was missing? She said, “Uh … what’s going on here?”
Carmenere said, “I found your note at the loft, Rilta.”
“You found it? But Demascus and Chant said …”
The earthsoul shook her head. “Word reached me that someone was looking for a windsoul thief in a black bodysuit and mask. I knew it had to be you. I thought it might have something to do with the … the painting. I was worried you’d gotten into real trouble. So I stopped by your place. When you didn’t answer, I let myself in, and saw your note, and that you hadn’t been back …”
“We were the ‘someone’ looking for you,” said Chant. “Carmenere found us, and gave us the note.”
The earthsoul said, “I told them you’d gone missing. And … if they found you, not to mention my name.”
“Oh. Why did you tell them that?”
The earthsoul looked at her for what seemed like a full song, her eyes dark.
Which was answer enough. Just because Carmenere was worried, she thought, didn’t mean Carmenere has forgiven me.
Riltana figured she should say something, but didn’t know what. She was afraid whatever words tumbled from her mouth would be the wrong ones. Excuses, apologies, or plans on how they could get the painting back; it would only remind the silverstar why they’d fought so bitterly in the first place.
“Oh, Rilta, it’s good to see you. I’m glad you didn’t come to harm,” Carmenere finally said.
It was so good to hear her nickname on Carmenere’s lips. No one called her Rilta but the earthsoul. Regret stung her eyes. She wanted to tell Carmenere how sorry she was, how devastated she was at the way her surprise had turned sour, that it hadn’t been what she wanted. But she’d said all that before, and it hadn’t impressed Carmenere the first time.
Chant cleared his throat.
“Sorry to bother you so late,” he said. “But we actually wanted to talk to you about something.”
“What about?” The silverstar looked at the pawnbroker suspiciously.
“I know you don’t know us, and this is probably an imposition, but it’s very important—”
Riltana put a hand on Chant’s arm. “Let me.”
She looked Carmenere in the face. “Something shady is going on with the Firestorm Cabal. And my friends might have some insight into what that is. We need an audience with your aunt—Queen Arathane.