The Simbul's gift - Lynn Abbey [116]
Chayan looked very uncomfortable.
Bro pressed his luck. "More Cha'Tel'Quessir could be killed, and not just me. What about Lanig? What happened to him? Chayan said that was magic, too."
"Lanig?" the forester asked.
"Cha'Tel'Quessir," Chayan said quickly. "Ebroin and I found his body yesterday across the camp stream. Looked as if he'd been torn apart by something large, but my best guess is magic."
"Not Red Wizard spells, cousin. There were no wizards near the camp yesterday."
"You're certain? The solitaire didn't double back?"
"There were no wizards near the camp yesterday, cousin. If a man died by spellcraft yesterday, something else killed him, something far more subtle than any Thayan wizard, if neither you nor I knew about it until after it happened."
It was Chayan's turn to stare and the forester's to look uncomfortable. Bro had a suggestion:
"Why don't you come to the camp? Rizcarn's not there and they need an elder, especially with Red Wizards and worse all around us."
"I serve the Simbul, Ebroin, and she wants me in the forest for now. I'll send you back with Chayan. The two of you together should be equal to an elder. I'll take my leave of you now, cousin and friend. I'm sure your day will be more interesting than mine."
The elder of YuirWood bowed, took two steps into the forest and simply vanished. Bro couldn't contain his astonishment. His jaw dropped and he'd swear he heard Chayan laughing, though her lips hadn't moved.
"You seem to have recovered fully from your misadventures."
"The holes hurt a little, the cautery burns itch a bit. I-I want to apologize for the way I was yesterday. I think, maybe… I hope it was poison."
"I could check: take off your shirt and the bandages, see if everything's healed."
She was teasing him again, seeming to say one thing while meaning another. Bro kept his shirt laces where they were. "We should go back to the camp."
"Has something happened? Aren't they still debating whether to walk or wait?"
"I told them to wait until tomorrow, then start walking."
"Clever of you, Ebroin. You have another day to finish healing. You don't like the Simbul much, do you?"
"I said I'd stopped blaming her. Maybe it wasn't her fault or mine that everyone died. I wish it never happened. I wish a lot of things never happened."
"Everyone does. Me, my cousin, even the Simbul herself. I could wish you hadn't fallen asleep last night."
Bro fought a blush and won. "There're Red Wizards all around us, and whatever killed Lanig."
"I'll keep one hand on my spear, Ebroin. That way, we'll be evenly matched."
If he'd had the sense Great Corellon gave a lowly ant, Bro would have started walking back to the camp, but he didn't, not even when Chayan left her spear right where it was, leaning against a tree.
He was pleased with himself later, when they did return, hand in hand, to the camp. At least until he saw a Cha'Tel'Quessir with raven hair. Rizcarn hailed him as soon as he was inside the camp.
"This isn't right," Bro whispered to the woman at his side. "If he went to MightyTree, he wouldn't be there yet. He shouldn't be back."
Chayan released his hand and pushed him slightly forward. "Do what you must, Ebroin. I've still got my hand on my spear and an eye for your back."
A spear, Bro thought, wouldn't be much use against his father, but he didn't tell brash Chayan that. He tried to hold onto her confidence, instead, when he returned Rizcarn's open-armed greeting. Rizcarn offered concern for Bro's health and joy for his recovery-all the things that had been missing between them. They came too late. Bro suspected affection now as much as he'd suspected the lack if it earlier.
He asked about MightyTree. Rizcarn insisted he'd walked day and night.
"Urell wept when I told him about the dirt-eater village. He wishes you well, Ebroin, and says you must come to MightyTree when you're well. He gave me this."
Rizcarn produced a carved black bead. Bro stood still, thinking hard, trying to decide what