Part 15 (1/2)

”Poisoned himself?”

She would have sworn to anyone, including the guardian of Quraite, that Pavek had been in the best of spirits when they returned from her grove. He'd shaped the elements with only a little help from her; his belief that he would master druidry had been restored. He'd smiled, and even laughed-as if he were made of the same emotional stuff as other men. ”He had no cause to poison himself,” she concluded, trying to a.s.sure herself as much as Telhami and the other shadows beneath the trees.

”Poison,” Telhami repeated, and this time, as a black froth bubbled through Pavek's lips, there could be no further doubt.

She cradled his head in her lap and forced his mouth open enough for Telhami to dust his tongue with herbs. His eyes rolled white, his back cracked like a whip, and he writhed loose. A moan erupted deep in his gut, and he began to retch up a foul-smelling, viscous fluid that s.h.i.+mmered briefly before turning dark and dead.

The herbs confirmed the diagnosis, nothing more. Telhami turned toward the shadows- ”Yohan?”

”Nothing, Grandmother,” he said wearily. ”Whatever he ate, he ate it to the last crumb and drop, or he didn't eat it here in the village.”

”He ate supper with the rest of us,” another shadow interjected, going soft and slow at the end. ”We all ate what he ate.”

No one said anything for a moment, while Pavek, no longer vomiting, pressed his fists into his gut and curled around them. He was conscious, after a fas.h.i.+on, muttering names between his moans: Dovanne, Rokka, Escrissar. But he was unaware of his immediate surroundings. Of Telhami or Yohan... of her as she once again tried to s.h.i.+eld his head.

”That won't help,” Telhami chided. ”Give me your hands.”

Obediently, because Telhami was right, she raised her hands, palms-out, above Pavek's chest. As Ruari had channeled the lifeforce of Athas for her when she wrought healer's spellcraft on the injured kank, she took the second's role for Telhami. Here in Quraite, where the guardian's presence was concentrated, she surrendered herself completely to its power.

Other druids worked their magic in different ways. Other clerics certainly did. But in Quraite where Telhami had learned druidry and where her way was now the only way, one druid channeled the lifeforce and a second invoked the spell whenever it was possible. She heard the first droning syllable of the invocation; her flesh grew warm. She heard the second; her hands burned as if her fingers had become flames. Then nothing, heard or felt, as Telhami took what she offered and fought for Pavek's life.

Time pa.s.sed without measure or mark. The healing fire was quenched. She yawned and stretched, no worse for her experience, and looked down on Pavek, stretched out between her knees and Telhami's. His limbs were relaxed, but not limp. His chest rose in a deep, regular rhythm and, in the hollow of his throat, four dark beads the size of a jozhal's eye glistened in the moonlight.

Cautiously Telhami touched one bead with a moistened finger, then pressed the tip against her tongue.

”Kivit.”

Kivits excreted an effective poison through musk glands beneath their cheeks. They spread the ooze across their fur as they groomed themselves. The defensive coating made the little creatures an unappetizing mouthful to any but the most desperate predator. Quraite's farmers smeared kivit musk around the trunks of their trees while the fruits budded and ripened. It killed any field vermin that ventured across it, but a man was in no danger, unless he gorged himself on kivit, fur and all-at best an unlikely possibility-or he mistook a sun-dried clot of concentrated musk for a date or raisin-a mistake he should have corrected the moment his mouth puckered.

Her thoughts raced toward a dreaded conclusion: Ruari collected kivits in his grove. Ruari collected and dried kivit musk for the farmers. Ruari had run away when she'd caught him scrubbing a bowl.

Not cleaning it. Not so innocent, but lining the bowl with poison.

It could be done. Pavek had made himself predictable, vulnerable. He came late, took the last bowl, and served himself. He'd never complain if the stew tasted strange, never suspect that his was different. And he'd use a sponge-like chunk of bread to mop up every last morsel and drop from the bowl's sides. Every last morsel and drop of poison, too.

”Kas.h.i.+?”

Telhami interrupted her down-spiraling thoughts. She met the sharp, ancient eyes with a s.h.i.+ver. It didn't matter what Pavek was, who he'd been, or what he might become. What Ruari had done would be Ruari's death once Grandmother knew about it.

”Kas.h.i.+?”

”It's nothing,” she lied and, knowing that lie would not be sufficient, added: ”I'm a fine one to chide you about wearing yourself out with Pavek. One day guiding him through his lessons, and I'm so exhausted I can't see straight.”

Lying was frowned upon in Quraite, but it was not a capital offense, and she congratulated herself that she'd been able to come up with a good lie so easily. With a heartbeat's effort, she could even convince herself that the guardian understood and approved.

”You young folk need more sleep than I,” Telhami agreed. ”Danger's pa.s.sed here. Go on, take yourself to bed. Pavek will tell us what happened when he wakes up tomorrow morning-”

That had the ring of certainty to it-and all the more reason for her to find Ruari first. She rose unsteadily. No lying there: her muscles were cramped from kneeling on the chilled ground. The healing had lasted longer than she'd imagined. had the ring of certainty to it-and all the more reason for her to find Ruari first. She rose unsteadily. No lying there: her muscles were cramped from kneeling on the chilled ground. The healing had lasted longer than she'd imagined.

”Until morning,” she whispered, careful to retreat toward her own hut, and getting well beyond the torchlight around Pavek before beginning her search.

Ruari might have retreated to his grove. He might have left Quraite entirely-which was what she was going to tell him to do in no uncertain terms. But Ruari hadn't inherited a grove. His tiny plot of nurtured ground was as far from the center of Quraite as it could be while remaining under the guardian's purview. She'd search there last, just before she'd decide that he'd left Quraite forever. First there was the bachelor hut, where he usually slept and where a finger hooked through the reed walls revealed Ruari's undisturbed blankets folded along the wall among a half-dozen snoring men.

Next the pantry hut where the bowl-filled basket was in its usual place and filled with its usual jumble-impossible to discern if one half-elf had removed one telltale bowl. Then, to the porch of the hut where she'd seen him scrubbing the bowl before supper, but which was deserted now. And, finally, to the place where he'd hidden himself earlier.

He sat there, cross-legged in the shadows, waiting to be caught with the incriminating bowl squarely in his lap.

”Why, Ru? Why?”

He hadn't heard her coming, hadn't expected her her at all. The bowl bounced in the dusty dirt as he scrambled to his feet, looking right and left-as if he might run-before standing still, looking at his feet. at all. The bowl bounced in the dusty dirt as he scrambled to his feet, looking right and left-as if he might run-before standing still, looking at his feet.

”Someone had to. He didn't belong here. Never could, never would. I kept waiting. Every day I waited for Grandmother to say he wouldn't be coming back, that the guardian and her grove had taken him-”

”So you decided you'd be the guardian instead?”

He didn't answers, only twisted the hem of his tunic around his forefinger until the entire garment was tight across his chest and he looked a larger version of the boy Ghazala had abandoned years ago. But this time there could be no taking him in her arms or drying his tears.

”No one has the guardian's rights. It's murder, Ru. Pure, simple, and planned. Murder, not justice-”

”He was the real poison!” Ruari sputtered, barely in control of his rage and fear. ”It was bad enough when Grandmother took him to her grove, was the real poison!” Ruari sputtered, barely in control of his rage and fear. ”It was bad enough when Grandmother took him to her grove, every day. every day. I thought... I thought maybe, maybe she was peeling his mind back, extracting his templar secrets before she put him in the ground. But today... Kas.h.i.+, you took him to your grove. All day. Wind and fire, Kas.h.i.+-a I thought... I thought maybe, maybe she was peeling his mind back, extracting his templar secrets before she put him in the ground. But today... Kas.h.i.+, you took him to your grove. All day. Wind and fire, Kas.h.i.+-a templar! templar! I asked myself: what were you thinking-and I knew the answer: He'd poisoned Grandmother's mind and yours. He was making you do foolish things-” I asked myself: what were you thinking-and I knew the answer: He'd poisoned Grandmother's mind and yours. He was making you do foolish things-”

”You're the fool, Ru.”

”Pyreen protect us if I'm the fool, Kas.h.i.+.” Ruari's voice was low and even. Rage had gotten the upper hand in his emotions, and despite herself, she took a step backward. ”I saw you coming back today: all talking, all smiles, your hair all damp, your dress. I saw it, Kas.h.i.+. The only thing I regret is that I waited a day too long to kill him!”

It came to her then, with the suddenness of lightning, that Ruari was jealous. He cared for her, not as she cared for him-a tag-along orphan, a temperamental younger brother who needed an older sister's unquestioning affection until he learned the manners to return it-but in the way Telhami had feared she'd cared for Pavek.

If the air hadn't been so charged with betrayal, she would have laughed. Even so, she couldn't keep a smile from ghosting across her face as she reached for his arm. ”Pavek hasn't poisoned my mind, Ru. And there's nothing-nothing at all-between us. He's afraid of the water, afraid of the gra.s.s, can hardly smile or laugh. He's just a man completely out of his element. Just-” She caught herself before she completed her thought, completed the comparison her mind had accidentally made between a hapless, sullen Pavek standing at the edge of her pool and Ruari himself not many years ago.

”Just what?” he demanded, an ugly sneer curling his lips. ”Just another raping, murdering, yellow-robe templar! I'm glad he's dead, hear me. I'll swear an oath in Grandmother's grove. I'm not afraid: I killed him and I'm glad. I'll show the guardian what's in my mind: the way he looks at me-'cause I'm wise to his templar games, the way he looked at you when we were in Urik, the way he looked at you today-”

”The way-” Akas.h.i.+a began to say The way he saved your life in the storm, but that would only feeding a futile argument. ”Pavek's not not dead,” she said instead. ”We saved him, Grandmother and I-” dead,” she said instead. ”We saved him, Grandmother and I-”

Ruari lashed out with his fist, freeing himself from her hand and striking her across the chin in the same movement. She'd never been hit before, never in anger. The pain lasted an instant; the shock echoed in the depths of her being. Her hands flew to her face-all Yohan's self-defense instructions forgotten.

”Why? Why, if he's nothing to you?”

Ruari's fist rose to shoulder level, but whether for another blow or mindlessly, as her own hands had risen, no one would ever know. A muscular shape surged between them: Yohan coming to her rescue. Yohan, who'd followed her as he followed Pavek, on Telhami's orders. Yohan who had, undoubtedly, heard everything. He easily lifted the half-elf and hurled him against the nearest hut, where he slid to the ground and held still: eyes open, conscious, thinking, scared. The dwarf folded his ma.s.sive arms over his barrel-ribbed chest, fairly daring Ruari to move.

”You've got to leave, now,” she pleaded. ”You've crossed the line. Go-before it's too late. Leave. Pavek's alive; no one will stop you. The guardian won't stop you. But you intended intended murder. You can't stay here any longer. Renounce your grove, Ru-it's the only way.” murder. You can't stay here any longer. Renounce your grove, Ru-it's the only way.”

”Renounce it... so a d.a.m.ned templar can trample through it?” Ruari challenged, defiant even in defeat.

The sound of stumbling and staggering intruded before she shaped an answer. Yohan raised a finger to his lips and dropped into a crouch. Another few heavy, flat-footed steps and a seedy-looking Pavek was among them.

”Trample through what?” he demanded, steadying himself against the wall above Ruari's head, looking down and making it clear that only Ruari could give him a satisfactory answer.