Glenda Larke: The Heart of the mirage

with what it needed? She thought she was the one who was going to die, Temellin – all those weeks of imprisonment she thought she was doomed – and all you could do was turn your back. Ocrastes damn you, was it her fault she was taken by Tyrans as a child?'

I had evidently woken in the middle of what must surely have been a one-sided argument. I moved restlessly, and they both swung towards me. 'He knows it, Brand,' I said. 'Leave it be, eh?'

He stared at me, expressionless, then shrugged and turned away.

I looked back at Temellin. 'You are weakening. You must go back. Now.' I hesitated, not wanting to say goodbye, because any farewell would seem too final. In the end, I settled for: 'I'll miss you.' It sounded banal and quite inadequate.

He nodded, but made no move to go.

'Tem – I'm fine. You've healed the worst – the rest will improve with time. And the baby is fine too.' He still didn't move. What was it Brand had said? He's not that sort of man-,-:

He was blackmailing me. And I wasn't foolish enough to call his bluff. I capitulated, as he guessed I would, and threw up my hands. 'All right, all right! We intend to ride south, to Ordensa, to arrange a passage for Tyr. But I'll wait for you there first. It's a small place, isn't it? You'll find me. I'll wait two weeks; no longer. But, Tem, it will just be to say goodbye. We have to be in Tyr ahead of Favonius and the Stalwarts, because I need time to settie my affairs before Rathrox moves in and seizes my property.'

He smiled, a smile of angry triumph, and then he was gone, fading out within a second.

Brand sighed. 'One day you'll have to tell me about the Magor and shades. But not now. I feel as if I've had

enough unpleasant surprises to last several lifetimes. Are you hungry?'

'Ravenous.' I tried to struggle up, but pain in my chest made me wince. 'By all that's holy, how did I manage to crack a rib?'

Brand looked guilty. 'Er, well that was me, actually. You didn't seem to be breathing when we got you out, and I couldn't feel your heart, so I sort of, um, thumped you to get things started again, while Temellin did whatever it is you people do with that cabochon thing.'

I groaned and bit off the ungracious complaint I was tempted to utter; instead, I managed to sound grateful as I thanked him. He helped me to sit up and I looked around.

We had left the Mirage. We were in the foothills somewhere, near a stream, and I was safe from the Ravage. Our shleths were grazing nearby; those scarifying peaks of the Alps towered beyond. It all looked peaceful. And normal.

I glanced down at the blanket covering me and identified the source of the strong smell of shleth. 'Saddlecloths?'

He gave a dismissive wave of the hand. 'Our cloaks went down with the building. Fortunately there were a few odds and ends still in the saddlebags, including your purse and a change of clothing. 'Fraid that's all we've got.'

'My sword. What happened to my sword?'

'It's safe. You held on to it. You dropped the rope – but not your sword.' He snorted. 'Typical bloody-mindedness.'

I managed a smile, as he had hoped I would. 'Watch who you insult, you Altani barbarian. And tell me what happened.'

•r- 'You've been out for a full day. Temellin healed you. Mostly, anyhow. I guess a broken rib takes time to grow back properly.'

I looked at my cabochon. The gem really was whole again, without any sign of a crack or cut, although it was colourless. My hand touched my cheek, not wanting to remember.

He cleared his throat. He could have offered all kinds of platitudes to console. Instead, he said, 'It's noticeable. And not pretty. It's red and puckered. The colour will fade with time. It won't matter to him any more than it matters to me. Don't worry about it.'

'I don't.'

He heard the catch in my voice. 'What is it? The baby?'

'He's fine. It wasn't the baby I was thinking of- it was you.'

'What about me?'

'I'm not blind, Brand. What's wrong with your arm?'

'I had to haul you out somehow.' He swallowed. 'It's not so very terrible.'

I reached up to run my fingers down his left arm from shoulder to wrist. The arm was withered, without muscle or strength, a pitiful parody of what it had been.

I asked, 'Why didn't he heal you too?'

'All his efforts had to go to you. You were so close to death. And it took all the strength he had. I don't begrudge the way he used his power, Ligea, and neither should you.'

I said sadly, T can't heal it now, Brand. It is too late. And I'm too weak anyway.'

He gave another shrug. 'I guessed as much. It doesn't matter. It gives me no pain, and I still have

some use of my fingers. It's just there's not much strength there any more. Neither of us has come through this unscathed – but we are still here.'

I took his hand in mine. 'Dear friend. How much I owe you.'

He gave a smile. 'Maybe I'll claim the debt one day- from the next Exaltarch of Tyrans.'

He would, too, the Altani bastard. I grinned at him.

The small fishing boat was tied up to the jetty in Ordensa and the owner was sitting in the open area at the back of his vessel, strengthening the stitching in a sail. He was an old man, dressed in shabby work clothes spangled with fish scales. A cloth cap pulled over his head protected a bald patch from a hot sun. His toughened hands and scarred fingers manipulated the curved bone of the sailmaker's needle and the stiff hide of the sail with a confidence born of long experience.

He was so intent on his job he didn't notice someone had stopped beside the boat and was looking down on him – but I did. I was seated in the cabin, and from where I sat I could see the newcomer's feet and sandals. I didn't need to see more; my sensing powers told me exactly who it was.

The fisherman finally looked up, and surprise stilled his fingers.

The expected voice: gentle yet authoritative – and so well loved. 'Bitran of the PlatterfishV

The fisherman nodded. 'That's me. And this here is the Platterfish. Best boat on the coast, even though we are bound for Tyr next trip.'

The man squatted down at the edge of the wharf so that he came into my view. He was thinner than he had been, but his brown eyes – so like mine – tilted at the corners and his hair, as usual, was in disarray. He said, 'I believe there is someone here I want to see, Bitran.'

Bitran gave me an uncertain glance, and I nodded. He gestured at the companionway. 'The Magoria is in there.'

Temellin took a coin from his purse. 'Go and buy yourself a drink, Bitran. In fact, buy several.' He swung himself down into the boat and walked across to the top of the companionway.

'That was very high-handed of you, Tem,' I said. 'It is his boat.'

He was looking down at me, but with the sunlight behind him, I couldn't see his face. He said, T wish I dared to be just as high-handed with you. Derya, why7. Why do you feel you have to leave?' He came down the steps, ducking his head to avoid the low beams. The cabin was tiny and with both of us standing, we were only half a pace apart, yet he didn't touch me. 'Where's Brand?'

'Delivering our shleths to the man who's agreed to buy them. He won't be back for several hours. I have to go, Tem. You know why. I don't think sisters should marry brothers.'

His face took on a look of stubborn resistance and genuine bafflement. 'You could still stay. And we're having a child. I love you, Derya. I want you around. I want my son. Derya, for pity's sake – I have lost two of my children, don't let me lose the third. Please.'

'You won't lose him! I will send him to you. Or better still, you send someone to pick him up.'

His surprise, and his paradoxical hurt, filled the cabin. 'You'd give him up, just like that?'