Cerelinde cried out and looked away.
"My Lord," Tanaros whispered, stretching his hands helplessly toward the Throne. Pain, so much pain! "Oh, my Lord!"
"It is enough." Satoris removed the Helm and regarded it. "Send for Lord Vorax," he said to the M�rkhar Fjel, "that he might conduct the Lady to the quarters prepared for her. I will speak more with her anon. General Tanaros." The gleaming eyes fixed him. "Tell me of Lindanen Dale, and what transpired thereafter."
A SULLEN CAMPFIRE BURNED. ARMFULS of dried sedge grass were thrown upon it, sending sparks into the starry skies. Carfax watched them rise. He was able, now, to move his eyes. He could move his limbs, too, so long as he did not contemplate violence against his companions. The mere thought of it brought retching nausea.
"You are safe, here." It was the Counselor who spoke, his voice calm and soothing. He pointed around the perimeter of an invisible circle with the butt-end of his staff. "Inside this ring, nothing can harm you; not even Lord Satoris. Do you understand?"
He did. All too well, he understood. He had failed.
"It is dangerous to keep him." Firelight played over Blaise Caveros' face; spare features, like the General's, yet somehow stirring.
"He is no danger to us now."
It was true. Carfax's tongue was sealed, stuck to the roof of his mouth by force of will and the oath he had sworn. Silence was his only protection, his only weapon. His hands lay limp, upturned upon his thighs. Yet if he had the chance…
"Who are you? Why were you sent?"
He could have laughed; he would have laughed, if the binding had permitted it. Faces, arrayed around the campfire. Such a tiny company, to threaten the foundations of Darkhaven! He knew their names, now. Not just the Counselor and the Borderguardsman, but the others. Fianna, the Archer; a tenderness there despite the lean sinews of her arms. He saw it when she looked at Blaise. Peldras, the Ellyl; of the Rivenlost, Ingolin's kindred, young and ancient at once. Hobard, proud and angry in his hand-me-down armor, his every thought writ on his face.
You were the one, weren't you? The Dreamspinner found you and sent his ravens…
But not the boy, ah, Arahila! What was his role? Fingering the flask that hung about his neck on corded twine. Dani, they called him. A cruel fate, to summon one so young. If he'd been Staccian, Carfax would have sent him back to gain another summer's age. Small wonder his uncle had accompanied him. Thulu, that one was called. Unkempt black hair, thick and coarse. A broad belly, spilling over his crude breechclout. Lord Vorax would have understood this one, whose eyes were like raisins in the dark pudding of his face.
"Why were you sent?"
Why? Why, indeed? To secure the world against your machinations, Haomane's tool! Carfax suffocated his laughter, biting his tongue. Red foam spilled from the corners of his mouth. Why? Why are you here, in these Shaper-forsaken marshes? What do you want in Vedasia? What does the boy Dani carry in his flask, that you guard so fearfully?
"Why doesn't he answer?"
"He is afraid, Dani." It was Peldras the Ellyl who answered in gentle tones. "He has served a cruel master. Give him time, and he will come to see we mean him no harm."
"Can you not compel him, wizard?" Hobard challenged the Counselor.
"No." Malthus shook his head wearily, taking a seat on a grassy tussock. "Satoris' minions swear an oath bound by the force of Godslayer itself. I can compel his flesh, but not his loyalty. Not even the Soumanië can undo that which is bound to a shard of the Souma." His deep-set gaze rested on Carfax. "That, he must choose himself."
"He's bleeding." The boy poured water from a skin into a tin cup, approaching Carfax and squatting to proffer the cup. In the firelight, the tin shone like a ruddy star between his palms. "Would you like a drink to rinse your mouth?" he asked.
Carfax reached for it with both hands.
"Dani," Blaise cautioned. "Don't go near him."
"Let him be, swordsman." Fat Thulu spun his digging-stick with deceptive ease. " 'He's the Bearer, and that's water he bears. Let him do it."
Cool tin, sweet water. It stung his tongue and turned salty in his mouth. Carfax spat pink-tinged water onto the marshy soil, then drank, his throat working. Water, cool and soothing, tasting of minerals and hidden places deep in the earth. "Thank you," he whispered, returning the cup.
The boy smiled, an unexpected slice of white in his dark face.
"Malthus." Blaise raised his brows.
The Counselor, watching, shook his head. "Thulu is right, Blaise. Whether he knows it or not, the boy does Haomane's work in ways deeper than we may fathom. Let it abide. Mayhap his kindness will accomplish what the Soumanië cannot. Any mind, I have spent too deeply of myself to pursue it further this night." Yawning with weariness, he let his chin sink onto his chest, mumbling through his beard. "In the morning, we will continue on toward Malumdoorn. Peldras, the first watch is yours."