feeling in her voice, that level of regard when she spoke his name. He had dreamed of the day she would touch him out of love—the love of woman to man, not teacher to student, or caregiver to orphaned boy.
Now here it was, and he wanted nothing more than to push her away and assure her he had nothing to offer, nothing to give, not now, and likely not ever.
When he lifted his head, he forced himself to look past her to Lord Baldric.
The Lord Provost’s large face was sad beyond measure, and he clutched his chest as if to hold back some indefinable darkness of his own. The man’s eyes had been stripped of all merriment and mischief, and even the anger and authority Aron had, if he admitted it, found comforting.
Aron rose from his knees, trembling, fists clenched. His breath came in short, rib-aching bursts, but he found his voice nonetheless.
“I used my graal, and I will use it again, any time that I might save innocent lives, or avoid needless slaughter.” He offered the Lord Provost a bow, but couldn’t make himself even look at Dari. “From you, I ask only this: trial or Judgment. I will await your decision.”
Then, before either of them could say anything to break his mind further, Aron limped away, headed for the House of the Judged, for that was the only place in Eyrie he truly thought he should be.
PART V
Eldruidh
FATE STRIKES
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
NIC
Hands on shoulders …
Shoving, pushing...
Air. Falling. I’m falling!
Nic sat up in his bed so fast that pain blinded him. He groaned as his twisted spine burned as if it might blister just below his shoulders. Sometimes it seemed his bones were trying to shove through his skin, and he thought he might die from the agony. Instead, he usually suffered through a round of fits, the kind that left him flattened for a day, or even many days, afterward.
Gentle hands steadied him, gripping his shoulders, then rubbing the tops of his arms. His vision was too blurred to see who comforted him, but Nic assumed it was Snakekiller. The thick, sweet taste of nightshade wine lingered in his mouth, mingled with the bitter elixir she used to manage his fits.
He reached through his mind to remember what he had been doing before the latest fit struck him, but came up with nothing. All he could recall was traveling toward Triune, then … a man … a man wrapped like a desert traveler… and Snakekiller, and—
“Snakekiller!” He tried to push himself out of the bed, but the hands on his shoulders held him in place.
“Be easy, Nic,” said a female voice Nic didn’t recognize. He still couldn’t see the speaker, other than as a blur of bright colors. “Snakekiller is well. She’s already back at the High Master’s Den, and she’ll be here soon to see you.”
Nic blinked, trying to clear the water and crust from his eyes. The woman who was comforting him turned him loose, and he shifted his aching body until his legs hung from the side of his bed. He faced his nurse and mumbled, “Where am I now? What is this place?”
“You’ve reached Triune. You’re in the infirmary, in the men’s ward—our only occupant right now, which is unusual.”
Triune. The Stone Guild stronghold. Relief washed through Nic like a slow, healing wave, easing the pain in his muscles and helping to focus his thoughts. The rest of his recent memory realigned itself, and he remembered waking after the Guard attack, Canus the Bandit, Snakekiller’s terrible wounds, the approach of the strange caravan with more Guard and the unmarked carriage, and—
And Aron.
Finally meeting the boy in his visions—and how Aron saved them.
Nic’s stomach rolled over, and he shivered from the memory of having his mind, his essence, touched against his will. Just the thought of it made him want to vomit, and yet he knew he was alive because of what Aron chose to do. Even better, Snakekiller was alive. As far as Nic was concerned, the outcome justified the methods. He wanted to meet Aron again and thank him properly.
“Is it more clear to you now, everything that happened?” asked the woman beside Nic’s bed.
He nodded and rubbed the sleeve of his sleeping robe across his eyes. As he moved the cloth from his face, the world came into sharper view. The stone chamber where he lay was huge and full of beds, with several big, roaring fires to keep the rock walls warm. Pots