offering her a passage home. Another inexplicable gift. “Are you making atonement?”
“As you did?” he asked.
A pointed observation. Yes, they had each done the other harm. He, by leading an invasion against her kingdom. She had betrayed her brother and her homeland—Karasek’s homeland—more than once throughout history. If she examined her life dreams honestly, she suspected she would find more instances of her perfidy.
“We are none of us perfect,” she murmured.
“Like children whose tongues stumble before they learn to speak,” Ilse said softly. “So we, the children of Lir and Toc, stumble and fall, from life to life, until our minds and hearts and souls learn to speak with wisdom.”
An old, old quote from a poetess long dead, one even Valara knew from her early days in the schoolroom. She has spent too many lives evading her true love. And now, for this life, it is too late.
Karasek could not know about Raul Kosenmark, but he seemed to have caught the essential meaning. “We were children once. We are no longer. Peace, then,” he said. “Between all our kingdoms.”
As if his words released them, they all stood and set to work. Karasek had brought ample supplies. He and Ilse had gathered more dried peat while Valara slept, and had cooked a meal of dried fish and oats—plain but hot and filling.
They ate with good speed, then worked together to divide Karasek’s gear into two heaps. Most went into a pack he designated for them; the rest went back into his remaining saddlebags. Under his direction, they buried their garbage and covered the campfire with loose dirt, stamped the dirt into smoothness, and scattered more dirt and gravel over that. Karasek paced around, inspecting the site. As he did so, he murmured the words in Erythandran to erase all traces of their presence from the past.
“Will that suffice?” Ilse said.
“If my other plans succeed, it won’t have to,” he answered. To her questioning look, he said, “I’ll fabricate a larger camp farther south, and lay down trails from there to the eastern coast to mislead any trackers, before I circle back to Rastov. You two should head southwest toward the mountains. Here is the route you must take.”
He outlined the landmarks they should watch for: the village called Kámenmost, with six houses and a sizable goat pen, where they should turn due south; the stream, almost a ditch, that they should follow; and the stone outcropping that marked the wooded ridge where they should make camp. He makes a good general, Valara thought, as she took in these precise and ordered details. Even of such a small army.
“The country’s wild,” he said. “You won’t meet up with any cities or towns, and very few farms, but I would caution you not to use any magic, and to keep a constant watch.”
I have no magic, Valara thought. Again pain lanced through her. It was as though the gods had scooped out her vital organs, leaving nothing but a void. She drew a long breath to calm her nerves. It was not a subject she wished to discuss with either Karasek or Ilse Zhalina. Not today.
She had no need to just yet, because Ilse had taken over the conversation. “When should we look for you?” she said.
Another interval where he calculated plans and counter plans. “Ten days,” he said at last. “Whoever arrives first waits for the other—but no longer than three days. Longer than that, and you must consider me lost.”
Lost. Almost the same words she had used to Ilse Zhalina the day before. Valara suppressed a shudder, not needing further explanation. They had left several other important subjects untouched. No questions about Markov’s spies, nor what Valara and Ilse might do if the other councillors doubted Karasek’s story.
“So we have another parting,” she said.
Karasek gave a brief smile. “We’ve had several.”
He mounted and offered Valara a salute. Valara returned the gesture. A soldier and a leader. What might have happened if he had come to Morennioù in peace?
With a pang, she dismissed that thought. She could not alter the past, only the future.
“Farewell,” she said.
“Until ten days,” Karasek replied, then wheeled his horse around and set off toward the coast. Ilse hoisted their pack over her shoulder, but Valara lingered, still watching Karasek.
“Will he make it?” Ilse asked.
“He will.”
She spoke more in hope than certainty.
Ilse offered no reply. She turned to go, but Valara continued to watch, one hand shading her eyes, as Karasek’s figure dwindled in size. He had not