The White Road - Lynn Flewelling [25]
"I don't like to think about that, but--"
"But you and my brother must have your lives back," she finished for him with a kind smile. "I promise you, I will use all my power and influence to seek out some solution to this. Are you certain he cannot drink the blood of another 'faie? It's such a tiny little bit that he needs."
"Seregil tried, but Sebrahn just spit it out."
"Well, then we must discover something else."
Late-afternoon shadows stretched across the water to meet them as they sailed into Half Moon Cove. Thick pine forest encircled it and spread to the feet of the distant mountains. Somewhere beyond those mountains, thought Alec, lay the place of Seregil's birth.
"So this is where you and your uncle plied your trade, eh?" asked Micum, standing with them at the rail.
"Yes," Seregil murmured. "Just like the old days, except it's daylight."
Gazing at the green mountains, the words of Seregil's haunting song of exile came back to Alec once again, and he began to hum the tune. Seregil gave him a sidelong smile, and then sang it aloud. This time it was a love song, filled with warmth and joy.
My love is wrapped in a cloak of flowing green
and wears the moon for a crown.
And all around has chains of flowing silver.
Her mirrors reflect the sky.
O, to roam your flowing cloak of green
under the light of the ever-crowning moon.
Will I ever drink of your chains of flowing silver
and drift once more across your mirrors of the sky?
When he was done, Alec saw Adzriel and Mydri both dabbing at their eyes.
CHAPTER 6
An Unexpected Guest
ULAN I SATHIL, khirnari of Viresse, was at work in his study when his kinsman Elisir i Makili came in and closed the door softly. He was still in his salt-stained cloak and boots, and his red and blue sen'gai was a bit awry.
"Ah, you're back," Ulan said, laying his pen aside by the crumpled handkerchief on the desk, and extending a hand. "I fear I sent you on a fool's errand. Your quarry turned up in Gedre a week ago." No one needed to know that he'd sent another pack of well-paid Plenimaran assassins after them there--an unsuccessful venture, as it turned out.
"That's good news, Uncle! I thought I'd failed you," the younger man told him. "I did bring you someone, though. Thanks to Soran i Brithel and his long-sighted magic, I found Ilar i Sontir of the Chyptaulos clan out in the wilderness east of Riga. He was half dead and he's quite mad. He cowered in the cabin the entire voyage and wouldn't let anyone near him, but I got enough out of him to think that he knows something of the disappearance of Yhakobin."
"Excellent, nephew! Bring him to me at once." Ulan would much rather have had the rhekaro, but this was better than nothing.
Elisir returned with a slight, hunched man bundled up tight in a ragged wool cloak. The hood was pulled down almost to his chin. He stopped just inside the door, trembling violently. Ulan could smell his unwashed odor and hear his labored breathing. The khirnari rose slowly, trying as always to ignore the pain in his joints and chest, and went to him. Ilar's hands were wrapped in the folds of the cloak so tightly, Ulan could count his knuckles through the cloth.
He took Ilar gently by the elbow and led him to a chair. "Welcome, Ilar i Sontir. Come and warm yourself. Elisir, has he eaten anything?"
"A little bread and gruel during the crossing. The cook judged that's all he could hold down in his condition, and he had trouble with that. The skutter boy was kept busy, cleaning up after him."
"Go down and ask Moriea for some water and broth." Ulan gave the trembling man a kindly look. Ilar's hood had fallen back a little, revealing a chapped red nose and chin, and the way Ilar was biting his lower lip. "You'll feel better once you're settled here. I assure you, you are quite safe, my dear fellow."
One thin, shaking hand emerged from the cloak, and Ilar pushed his hood back enough for Ulan to see his eyes and the dark circles under them. The neck of the cloak wasn't tied. Ulan could make out the white ring of skin on his throat