Teri McLaren - Song of Time

"Of course it matters/ said Claria quietly. "How can you say that? Who you are was important enough to Javin to risk everything for. You have to keep searching, Cheyne. But this Raptor-whoever or whatever he is-if he killed the Collector, if he is that old, he has great magic. How will you fight such an enemy? How will you fight a whirlwind?"

"I don't know. But I have to try. Claria, the Collector's story also said he had hidden away great wealth, the glory of the old kingdom. The Raptor has never stopped looking for that. And he won't. But it's your inheritance," Cheyne reminded her.

Claria dropped her eyes, hoping the light hid her unshed tears. This journey had begun with her hope of a name and a dowry. Cheyne had given her back the chance for the first, and he was offering her the chance for the second now.

Why does it feel so awful to get what you wanted? she thought. She looked at her newly healed hands, Maceo's ring still upon her finger.

"I suppose so. But you have made some enemies. Yob will be of no help-he has gone back to bury Womba, and Wiggulf has more than he can handle with the floods. Dunsan reports that Naruq is nowhere to be found, and Riolla is garrisoned at the curtain of light with her borrowed army. Will you try to go back to Sumifa?"

Cheyne smiled bitterly. "I don't know. Just remind Og to tell Muni he'll see me soon enough."

Og, strangely quiet since their close brush with the beast, rolled the four gemstones over and over in his hand, then spoke up softly.

Til tell him," he promised. "But I'll tell you this, too. You cannot go back to Sumifa, Cheyne. Maceo wants you dead. And on the way back from the Chimes, I thought I saw Saelin. That one will never forget that you have escaped his expertise many times now. He will require your head to answer his shame. And then there is Rotapan… Why don't you let me go with you? I promised I would guide you."

"And I promised you half of what we found. Which turned out to be a great deal of danger and trouble. Besides, you were a terrible guide, Og." Cheyne laughed. "And Claria needs your magic to get home. It's a long trip."

He took her hand in his and kissed the two fingers with their little crooked first joints. "Fair winds and waters, Claria."

Claria could not trust her voice to answer him. A few seconds of awkward silence passed, then Og began to sing over the stones, his brow wrinkled in concentration. The magic came to the stones, white light pouring over the songmage and the girl as they faded into the brightness. In a heartbeat, they were gone, the scarlet flash of Claria's hair ribbon lingering for a brief moment afterward in the myrrh-and-bergamot-scented air.

High above the shattered Chimes, a dark whirlwind scattered the broken ganzite crystals and stirred up stinging clouds of sand as it passed slowly overhead, searching.