in the helpless throes of a nightmare.
The man was from the Clan of Gilarmist the Fat, running a message to another clan. He'd flirted with Seraph's oldest sister and died in the night. Her sister died the next morning, drowning in the fluid that they couldn't keep from filling her lungs.
By the time four days had passed only Seraph and her brother Ushireh were left to bury the dead. Ushireh worked until he passed out. She'd been so afraid that he was dead, too; it had taken her a long time to convince herself that he was only unconscious. She'd dragged him away from the dead they'd gathered together in the center of the camp, then she'd burned it all - camp and bodies alike. It had been weeks before she could work enough magic to light a fire.
When she managed it at last, Ushireh's body sat up in the pyre, and his head turned until he could fix his glowing eyes on her. Seraph shrank back and tried to close her eyes. As if in death he'd acquired the magic he'd so envied her in life, his will kept her from looking away from him.
"You left me," he said. "You left your duty. You cannot run forever, Seraph, Raven of the Clan of Isolda the Silent."
She awoke with a gasp and a cry and was gathered into warm arms and rocked gently.
"Shh," said Tier, "it was a dream. You're safe."
She buried her head in his shoulder and gave up a lifetime of self-control to sob raggedly against him. "I can't do it," she said. "I don't want to be a Traveler. They all die, and I have to burn them and bury them. I'm so tired of death and duty. I want... I want..." What she wanted was tied away from her in strands of guilt and duty, but she found a fair approximation of it in the safety of Tier's arms.
"Shh," he said. "You don't have to go if you don't want to."
His words passed over and around her, the sense lost to her grief and guilt, but the sound of his voice comforted her.
From the third of the three windows that looked out into the garden, Alinath watched her brother hold the witch he'd brought home and she clenched her fists before she turned away.
When the worst of it had passed, embarrassment made Seraph turn away and wipe her face with the corner of the blanket.
"Sorry," she muttered. "It was a nightmare."
"Ah," said Tier as he let her pull away from him. "It sounded worse than that to me."
She shrugged, not looking at him. "Memories make the worst nightmares, my father always said."
"You don't have to go find another clan," he said. "You can stay here."
She tried to stifle her involuntary laugh. It wouldn't be polite to disparage the hospitality of his family. "No, I can't. Thank you. But no."
"I can't leave now," said Tier. "But I fear it won't be long. Mother complains and frets until it's hard to believe that she's sick at all - but she's losing weight and her color is much worse. Can you wait?"
Seraph held herself still. Could she wait to take up her duties? Oh, yes. Wait forever if she could. But was it the right thing to do?
At last she nodded. "I'll wait."
"Good."
Tier sat with her a bit, while the sweat dried on her back. With the air of a man coming to a decision, he took something from around his neck and put it into her hands.
"This came with me into war and kept me safe enough through any number of battlefields. As I am unlikely to need it now, I'd like you to take it."
She fingered the collection of large wooden beads carefully.
"They're not much to look at," he said hastily, and with a little embarrassment, she thought. "But they carry the blessing of our priest. You've met Karadoc?"
She nodded. The priest had sought her out to give her his sympathies on the death of her brother. The only Rederni aside from Tier who had. She hadn't been quite sure how to deal with a priest - Travelers had little use for the minions of the gods - but he'd seemed like a good person.
"Karadoc gave me that for helping him tend his garden after he broke his wrist one summer."
"It must have been more than that," Seraph said thoughtfully. "People don't give gifts like this lightly."
He stiffened, "It's just a bunch of wooden beads, Seraph."
She put