The Gates of Winter - Mark Anthony [114]
Grace smiled. “I imagine not.” He was a burly fellow with big, scarred hands.
Those hands were trembling now. “By Vathris, look at me. I'm shaking like a frightened lamb, and there's nary a wolf in sight. It's foolish, Your Majesty, what with you being such a fierce warrior, and a great sorceress as well—but I feel all cold and watery inside, as if we haven't a hope in the world.”
“There's always hope,” she said briskly. “And don't worry about how you're feeling. It's an effect of the pylon. In fact, you're remarkably brave. Most people who stood near it as long as you did would have been reduced to jelly.”
Or would murder each other in a blind rage. But she didn't say that, and her words seemed to hearten the fellow. She spoke similar words of encouragement to the others, and she examined each of their threads. However, she could see no signs of permanent damage. She discharged the men, giving them each a simple to help them sleep, and excused them from any duties that day so they could rest.
“Yours is a healing touch, Your Majesty,” Durge said after they had gone.
Then why can't I excise the iron splinter from your chest? Only those were more words she could not speak.
“Get some rest, Durge,” she said instead.
“As you wish, Your Majesty,” he said and left her tent. However, she knew he wouldn't. The tireless knight would keep on working so others could rest in his stead. Grace didn't know how he did it. A crushing weariness descended upon her, and she curled on her cot next to Tira, who was fast asleep.
Grace, can you hear me?
The voice was familiar, comforting. Grace must have been dreaming.
Please, Grace. Are you there?
Grace's eyes opened, and she sat up. “Aryn?”
Yes, Grace, it's me. Thank Sia I've found you. There's a shadow in the Weirding not far from here. I had to follow other threads far around it. Lirith had a terrible feeling that something had happened. Are you all right?
Grace sighed. We are now. At least, most of us.
Quickly, she explained what had happened: the dead Spiders and the pylon. She spoke also of the battle in Dun-Dordurun and her strange meeting with Queen Ivalaine.
Oh, Grace, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have waited so long to reach out to you. I think I was afraid talking to you would only make your being so far away harder to bear.
Grace smiled, her weariness lifting as the bright energy of her friend filled her. How are things in Calavere?
The Warriors are arriving in droves now, even from the far south. Soon Boreas will march north with a great host. But there's something else, and hearing your story helps me understand it a little better. Still, I have to think she's going mad.
A chill passed through Grace. What are you talking about, Aryn? Who's going mad?
Queen Ivalaine. . . .
Grace wrapped a shawl around herself as Aryn spoke of Ivalaine's unexpected arrival at Calavere, and of the way the queen had spurned Aryn, Lirith, and Mirda.
She said she'd have nothing to do with us, that she had come here for one only. I couldn't imagine what she meant. Then, last night, I wove a spell. It was dangerous, I know, but I saw Prince Teravian in the garden talking with Ivalaine.
Grace shivered. But what on Eldh does she want with the prince?
The words flew along the Weirding in a rush. He's her son, Grace. Queen Ivalaine is Prince Teravian's mother.
They spoke for another few minutes across the web of the Weirding, until at last the effort was too much for Aryn.
I have to go, Grace. I'm getting tired, and I can't guard our thread any longer. I can't be certain that she . . . that someone isn't listening to us. We all love you, and I'll contact you again soon. Sia be with you.
Good-bye! Grace called out in her mind. Only Aryn was already gone, and Grace was shivering, alone in the tent save for Tira, who was still fast asleep.
Grace was glad to know the men of Vathris were answering the call to war. But what was Ivalaine doing, and how could the prince be her son? Before