The Gates of Winter - Mark Anthony [275]
Sareth touched her shoulder. “Are you sure it was because of Taneth you came out here, beshala? Is there not another reason?”
She gazed at him, her eyes bright with tears. “I don't want you to go.”
So that's what this was about. He had thought as much. Last night a young man from another Mournish band had ridden hard into the circle of their wagons, bearing ill news.
“I do not wish to leave,” Sareth said. “But you heard the message Alvestri brought just as I did. A dervish has come out of the desert, or at least one who claims he is a dervish. He must be seen.”
“Yes, someone must go see him. But why must it be you?”
“You know why the task falls to me. I am descended of the royal line of Morindu.”
Lirith's dark eyes flashed. “So is your sister Vani. She is the one who was trained at Golgoru. She is the T'gol. It is she who should be doing this thing, not you.”
Sareth pressed his lips together. He could not argue that point, for Lirith was right. Two thousand years ago, the sorcerers of Morindu the Dark had destroyed their own city lest its secrets fall into the hands of their foe, the city of Scirath. The people of Morindu, the Morindai, became wanderers and vagabonds, known in the north as the Mournish.
After their exile, the Morindai forbade the practice of blood sorcery, until such time as Morindu should be raised again from the sands that swallowed it. However, there were those who defied that law. Dervishes, they were called. They were renegades, anathema. The silent fortress of Golgoru had been founded in part to train assassins who could hunt down the dervishes and destroy them with means other than magic.
Sareth stepped away to the edge of the grove. “It's true. This task should be Vani's. But my sister is gone, and the cards do not reveal where, though al-Mama has gazed at them time after time. I know of no way to find her, unless you think Queen Grace may have heard some news.”
They had last seen Vani in Malachor, in Gravenfist Keep. Then, just before the Mournish arrived there three years ago, she vanished.
Lirith shook her head. “You know I have not Aryn's strength in the Touch. I cannot reach her over the Weirding, let alone Grace. They are too far away.” She frowned. “Indeed, it seems my ability to reach out over the leagues grows less these days, not more. The Weirding feels . . . I'm not certain how to put it. It feels tired to me somehow.”
“Perhaps it's you that's a little tired, beshala,” Sareth said, touching Taneth's tiny hand.
She smiled. “Perhaps so. Still, it is strange. I will have to ask Aryn about it the next time she contacts me.”
While Sareth did not doubt Lirith was happy living among the Mournish, he knew she missed her friends. The Mournish had journeyed to Calavere—where Aryn and Teravian ruled over both Calavan and Toloria—only once in the last three years, and they had not returned at all to Gravenfist Keep, where Queen Grace dwelled. Still, the three witches could speak from time to time using magic, and that was a comfort. However, the last time Lirith had spoken to them so, neither had heard any news of Vani.
An idea occurred to Sareth. “Why don't you go to Calavere, beshala?”
She stared at him.
He laughed at her surprise. “Go on. Take Taneth. Be with Aryn. It will not take you long to journey there, and the roads are safe these days. Aryn is to have her own child soon, is she not? I am certain she will enjoy seeing our little one. And when I am finished with my work in the south, I will come to you both there.”
“I believe you are trying to distract me,” Lirith said, giving him a stern look. However, she could not keep it up, and she laughed as she hugged Taneth to her. “I confess, I long to see Aryn with my eyes, not just hear her voice over the Weirding. And if I stayed here, I imagine I would do nothing but fret and worry about you.”
“Then it's settled,” Sareth said. “You will go to Calavere at once. I will ask Damari to accompany you.” He scratched his chin. “Or maybe I'd better make that Jahiel. He's much less handsome.”
“Damari will do just fine,