battlements. "Tavi," he said, voice thick with tension. "They're with him up there."
Gravel pattered down around her, making Isana look up.
Odiana stood upon the wall, staring down, her expression detached, dark eyes somehow empty, hollow. She moved one bare foot, kicking at a coil of knotted rope beside her, and it unwound, falling down to bump against the wall beside Isana's head.
"Come up," Odiana said.
"What have you done with him?" Isana demanded.
"You know I can't hear you," the water witch replied. "Come up." She vanished from the edge of the battlements.
Isana looked at Fade and reached for the rope. The slave stepped closer, his expression serious, and put his hands on her waist, lifting her as she began to climb.
Isana reached the top of the wall to find Odiana standing over the unmoving forms of Tavi and Amara. Both were pale, still, but breathing steadily. Isana went to Tavi's side at once, reaching down to touch his face, to brush an errant curl back from his eyes. She felt herself sob in relief, felt some easing in the terror and the fear of the past several days that demanded tears to fill the void. She didn't bother to craft them away.
"Happily reunited," Odiana murmured. "There." The woman turned to walk toward the rope, evidently in preparation to climb back down it.
"Why?" Isana asked, her voice choked. She looked up at the water witch. "You saved them. Why?"
Odiana tilted her head to one side, eyes focused on Isana's mouth. "Why? Why, indeed." She shook her head. "You could have killed me at Kordholt. Or simply left me behind. You did neither. You could have given me to the Cursor girl. You did not. It deserved a reply. This is mine."
"I don't understand."
"Saving your life would have been a small grace, I think. Saving the lives of your blood is another matter. You love the boy as a son. You love him so much it hurts my eyes. The Steadholder. Even the slave. They are important to you. So I give you their lives. Our scale is balanced. Do not expect it again."
Isana nodded. "What about the girl?"
Odiana sighed. "I was hoping she would die, out of general principles, but she'll live. I neither helped nor hurt her. Take that as you would."
"Thank you."
The water witch shrugged and murmured with something like genuine warmth in her tone, "I hope that I never see you again, Isana."
And with that, she descended the rope, and once at the bottom walked briskly across the courtyard, deeper into Garrison, eyes wary.
Isana turned her back on the departing mercenary and knelt down to touch Tavi's forehead, to send Rill gently into the boy, to assure her of his health. She sensed that he was in pain and that he would need a more thorough crafting to put him to right, but that the water witch had ensured that he would live to be treated.
There was a scraping of leather on stone behind her, and Fade hauled himself up the rope, glowering at it reproachfully after. "Tavi?"
"He's all right," Isana whispered. "He's going to be all right."
Fade put a hand on Isana's shoulder, silently. "He is brave. Like his father."
Isana glanced up at Fade and smiled, wearily. "The battle? Is it over?"
Fade nodded, looking down over the courtyard, the gates. "It is over."
"Then help me," Isana said. "We need to get them into a bed so that we can see to them."
"What then?" Fade asked.
"Then..." Isana closed her eyes. "Then we go home."
Chapter 45
Fidelias woke in somewhere dark, cool. He ached everywhere. He opened his eyes.
"Good," Odiana purred. "You're awake." She leaned over him to rest fingertips lightly on his temples. The cool, pale metal of a discipline collar gleamed at her throat. "No more bleeding."
"What happened?" Fidelias asked.
She watched his mouth very closely as he spoke, then answered, "I found my Aldrick, and then I found you. We're not out yet. We need you to help us."
"Where are we?"
"In a warehouse in Garrison. My love is running an errand, and then we'll go."
"The dagger?"
"In your hand. You wouldn't let it go."
Fidelias lifted his hand and saw the dagger there. "Where are the men?"
"Already gone."
The door to the warehouse creaked open, and Aldrick, wearing the tunic of a Rivan legionare, entered. "There isn't much time," he said, voice tense. He limped to Odiana and tossed down several bloody scraps of flesh attached to sweeping manes of fine white hair. Scalps. "The Marat are sweeping the buildings for any