through Quraite’s guardian spirit, they were doomed. She willed herself to intercede, but Pavek held the guardian, and it resisted her.
She knew a moment of fear darker and deeper than any other in her life. She called on her own faith to sustain her, and then there was water.
Everywhere.
An otherworldly image of the Lion-King hovered above her spring, with water seeping from the wounds of the warriors beneath its feet. More water spouted from the mouth of the head he held in his hand. Water looped and spiraled and formed a swirling cloud around Pavek himself.
“A fountain!” she laughed, in genuine relief as water splashed her face. “You remembered a fountain! Water and stone together! Well done!”
Pavek’s fountain collapsed the instant her words penetrated his consciousness. He was drenched and dazed. For several moments he did not move at all. Her elation faded: a druid’s first invocation was the most dangerous, because the guardian must be released at its end. The more a neophyte druid invoked, the more dangerous the release. Pavek had invoked far more than the few splattering drops she’d expected, and there was a very real chance he’d invoked more than he could safely release. She held her breath, waiting for the ground to open and guardian to claim him.
Finally he blinked and raised his still-dripping hands.
“Water. My water.” He extended his arms toward her. “My water.”
She pressed her fingertips against his. It was an awesome personal accomplishment for a faithless man, and a chilling precedent.
“Yes,” she agreed solemnly. No need to share her doubts and concerns. “It’s a beginning, Pavek. The beginning of another race. Will you finish it? Can you win it?”
The innocent joy drained from his face.
“You can, Just-Plain Pavek,” she assured him, and herself, as she invoked Quraite’s guardian and rose above the grass. “Tomorrow. Here. Now, return home. Supper will be waiting for you.”
* * *
The moons had set and his clothes were dry by the time Pavek returned to Quraite. He’d hoped Yohan was the silhouette squatting by the lone fire, but it was Ruari instead. The half-elf looked up as he approached. Ruari said nothing, and Pavek didn’t either, once he saw his medallion hanging from the half-wit scum’s neck.
Chapter Ten
A summons slid into Akashia’s dream some twenty nights after her return from Urik: a twinge of pain in a deep muscle, the unfocused scent of anxiety, the wind-borne words Laq, templar, and Pavek—all woven through a mind-sent image. Striding out of her solitary hut before she was completely awake and without the night-cloak folded beside the door, she was shivering by the time she reached the doorway of Telhami’s hut.
A fist-sized oil lamp hanging from a crossbeam cast shadowy light through the single room. Telhami sat on a wicker bench, her eyes closed. She’d slumped, precariously pressed against the bark-covered center pole. Her head had fallen forward at an odd angle. For one horrifying moment, Akashia thought her friend and mentor had died.
“Grandmother?” Akashia couldn’t make herself cross the threshold. “Grandmother…”
Telhami awakened with a shudder. Her eyes opened, and she stared at the doorway.
“Kashi? Kashi, what are you doing here in the middle of the night? Is something wrong?”
“You summoned me,” Akashia whispered. “You were dreaming, Grandmother. You summoned me from your own dreams.” Her voice grew louder, steadier as the situation became clearer.
Telhami shook her head, but her face grew thoughtful.
Akashia became convinced she saw things correctly: “You’re worried about Pavek and Laq, aren’t you, Grandmother? Confide in me, Grandmother. Tell me what troubles you. I brought him and his problems to Quraite. Let me help you deal with them.”
“No.” Telhami continued to shake her head. “It’s nothing that serious, Kashi. Certainly nothing for you to worry about. Pavek strives hard, but learns slowly. It’s frustrating for both of us, no worse than that. And Laq is a problem that will solve itself.”
“How?”
“I don’t know—yet.”
Bracing herself against the bench and the center pole, Telhami pushed herself upright. She took an unsteady step, releasing the bench but keeping her other hand’s fingertips curled firmly on the rough bark for balance.
“But I will, Kashi. I will. It’s a matter of time and memory. A little more of each, and I’ll have the answer.”
“Not if you wear yourself out first.” She accepted the fundamental truth of Telhami’s assertion. Where Quraite’s guardian and Quraite’s history were concerned, she hadn’t learned much—she wasn’t ready to learn. But Pavek was another matter. “If the templar has told the truth about Laq, then Laq is