The Darkness Before the Dawn - By Ryan Hughes Page 0,17

where they laid him down on a mat at least three times as thick and much softer than the one he’d slept on last night. Or maybe it just felt that way after all his injuries, but whatever the case he felt himself sinking into it, but never remembered hitting bottom.

* * *

He woke to find the tent brightly lit with the first rays of morning sun. The interior glowed with soft, diffused warmth, and the walls rippled gently with the morning breeze. Jedra rose up and rubbed his eyes. The chief lived in luxury compared to the elves in the common tent. Hanging dividers separated the interior into rooms, each open overhead to the roof of the tent. All the panels were decorated with elaborate stitchery or beadwork or painting, and the floor had been covered with thick furs. If the sorcerer-king of Urik were to spend a night in the desert, this was the sort of tent Jedra would expect him to have. His impression of the nomadic elves went up a notch as he took it all in.

Kayan lay on a separate mat beside him, still inhaling and exhaling the long, soft breaths of deep sleep. Jedra felt wide awake and perfectly healthy, which no doubt explained Kayan’s exhaustion. She had finished healing him during the night.

There weren’t any free rides in this world. Energy used for one thing had to come from somewhere else. With sorcery it was life-energy; every magical spell required the vital force of living things and life-giving elements to power it. Careful mages—preservers—took care to use only what the land could spare, but defilers used up everything around them, leaving only a circle of ash when they cast a spell. The streets of Urik were nearly impassable with potholes left over from defilers’ magic.

Psionics didn’t require external energy, but that ecological nicety exacted its price on the psionicist. Every time Kayan or Jedra used their powers, it drained their own stamina. With mental contact and other simple skills that drain was hardly significant, but healing someone’s injuries required a great deal from the psionicist. Only rest could restore what the healer had lost. Small wonder if Kayan slept until noon—provided the elves would let her. Jedra was surprised they had allowed either of them to sleep in as long as they had; according to Galar they were usually up and moving long before dawn.

He rose quietly and left the tent to see if he could find out what was going on, but the first elves he saw gave him such chilly looks that he didn’t ask. He found the community tent and recovered both his and Kayan’s knapsacks, leaving their old sleeping mats behind; then he followed his nose to the food tent where he picked up a couple more of the crumbly cakes and filled their waterskins for the day’s hike. They hadn’t had time for breakfast yesterday, but today nobody seemed in a hurry. Still none of the elves spoke with Jedra—in fact, when they saw him coming they got out of his way. Maybe they’re just embarrassed at their behavior last night, Jedra thought. They should have been. Next time Sahalik decided to beat up on someone, Jedra would enjoy shouting “Fight, fight, fight!” as they had done and see how they liked it.

He took the food and knapsacks back to the chief’s tent and set them down beside Kayan. He nibbled his cake slowly, watching her sleep. She looked so innocent there, her head resting in the crook of her arm and her face pressed into the mat, her small, round human nose pushed to the side and her straight brown hair falling over her eyes. Jedra let his gaze drift down over her loosely shrouded body. Even through her robe he could see how curvaceous she was. Small wonder Sahalik had been attracted. Jedra was, too, but at least he had the decency to wait for her to return his interest.

Or was it unwillingness to believe that she might actually feel the same way about him? Jedra had grown up on the streets; his home had been a nook in a wall at the end of a dead-end alley. People with his background usually didn’t associate with templar women. His and Kayan’s time together in a slave pen had brought them both down to the same social level—the very bottom—but it hadn’t erased their pasts. Now that they were in the lap of luxury again, Jedra felt