The Howling Delve - Jaleigh Johnson [81]
His pile of magic items had been depleted. Talal or one of the others had collected the ttibute.
Moving along the wall, Meisha sat down a safe distance from the wizard. His breathing was deep and regular, but his arms and legs twitched erratically, like a dog in the throes of some distutbing dream.
"What are you seeing, Master?" she whispered aloud, knowing he could not heat het. "What is totmenting you?" Was it the fire beast? Meisha had always sensed a wtong-ness, a feeling of malevolence lurking at the edges of Varan's underground sanctuaty, but remembering the ghost's warning and her own strange dreams, she felt the sensation intensify a hundtedfold.
And now the Shadow Thieves were here. Meisha ran a hand down her back, over the ridge of healing flesh. She hadn't been strong enough to take them on when she was whole. She had no chance now. All she could do was pray to the Lady that Kali had gotten het message. The ghost had said only that he would deliver it. He hadn't appeared since to confirm or deny its receipt.
Sighing, Meisha traced a circle in the dirt and sediment in front of her. "Chareff" The familiar power kindled-the first spell she'd ever learned.
Always have a candle for the tats, Shaera had chided her.
She placed the tiny flame in the circle. Meisha lay down on her side, curling around the fire so she could watch Varan sleep.
He continued to toss and turn fitfully. Meisha bit her lip as she felt powet stir anew, magic awakened by the wizard's violent trembles. It called to the sorcerous power within het, raking over her skin like hot coals. She shuddered.
Then why not end it? Give him a quick, merciful death.
The memory came out of nowhere, the words biting at
Meisha's heart. The woman who'd spoken those words to Kail was unrecognizable to her now. She had no desire to be reminded of the person she'd once been.
"Kail," she whispered, feeling tears sting her eyes as she remembered the young man who'd stood defiantly in her path and watched his death smolder in her eyes. "I understand now."
She could never kill Varan. Even had she the magical might, she had no will for the task. Not when there was a chance he might be saved.
She closed her eyes against the memories, retreating instinctively into a meditative trance. Varan had taught her that, as well. She would need to conserve as much strength as possible for what lay ahead. She'd been wrong-she couldn't rely on Kali getting her message. Something had to be done to get the refugees out of the Delve before Varan became any more volatile. For if the fire beast didn't kill them all, Meisha knew, deep in her soul, Varan would.
Haroun walked beside Talal to the front of the warrens, where the refugees stood herded together. The crowd stood tense and wary, fighting desperately to keep the guilt off their faces as Balram questioned each about Meisha.
"I don't remember you." Balram held the back of his hand to his nose as he spoke to Talal, but the boy only grinned innocuously.
"I was smaller when you were here last, sir," he said. His voice was chipper and polite, as if he were trying to sell Balram goods on a street corner. "Cleaner too, I'll warrant."
Balram didn't answer but looked back to where Aazen leaned against a wall. "You're sure she was a Harper?"
Aazen shrugged. "She wore the pin. I left her body beneath the portal. Only the bloodstain remains."
"I see." Balram grasped a fistful of Talal s dirty hair. He didn't pull or shake the boy; he simply held the tender strands straight out behind his left ear, sifting them through his fingers. Talal stiffened, and the vacant smile on his lips slid away, replaced by a taut line as fear battled with anger.
Aazen waited. He'd been on the receiving end of this punishment when he was younger than Talal. He knew what would happen if the boy displeased his father.
"What did you do with the Harper's body?" Balram