Dave Gross: Lord of Stormweather

"Well, if she does, I won't be able to heal it until tomorrow."

"In that case, perhaps it is time I began to practice that stoneskin spell."

Tamlin was overseeing the repair of Shamur's solar when he received the news of Tazi's departure.

"She didn't even say good-bye?"

"No," said Cale. His normally sanguine tone was replaced by a curtness that verged on the offensive. Tamlin was almost afraid to broach the subject of Cale's continued service, and something told him that the man had already made a decision to leave Stormweather Towers. "Not even a note."

Tamlin had known his sister was upset at their father's death, but he hadn't expected her to leave home again so soon after such a long absence.

"Perhaps we should go after her," said Tamlin.

"No," said Talbot. He stood knee-deep in the dirty water of the solar's pond. After the workmen had failed to set the tumbled fountain stones upright, he had shed his shirt and waded in to help them. After a few mighty heaves, they'd restored the great blue stones to a semblance of their former positions. "She wants some time alone."

"She told you she was leaving?" asked Tamlin.

"Not exactly," said Talbot, "but I had a feeling."

"Leave her," said Shamur.

She stepped carefully over a puddle while holding up the edges of her black skirts. Even in mourning clothes, she remained one of the most elegantly attired ladies of Selgaunt. She held her head regally high, her eyes barely dimmed by the grief she kept inside. Tamlin barely recognized her as the wild warrior who'd fought beside Thamalon and Cale on the tower of Castle Stormweather.

"But now is when I need her help the most," said Tamlin.

"She needs her freedom, little big brother," said Talbot. "Besides, it's better she's out of sight while Brimmer Soargyl is convalescing from those bites."

"I told him Larajin would heal those for him," said Tamlin. "After all, we are funding that shrine of hers. That's got to be worth laying hands on a Soargyl for a few moments."

"He won't go anywhere near an Uskevren woman these days," said Talbot. "He's still scared."

"As well he should be," added Shamur.

Tamlin flinched when he realized how casually they'd been discussing Larajin in front of Shamur. Despite their fears that their mother would resent the constant reminder of her husband's infidelity, she'd treated the girl with surprising warmth since Thamalon's death. Even before Tamlin could broach the subject of acknowledging Larajin publicly, Shamur had made the suggestion herself, explaining that it would do much to soothe the injured feelings of the clerics of Sune, who could attribute to nepotism the Uskevren's impolitic support of Larajin's heretical philosophies.

"Now," Shamur said, "leave this mess to the servants and come to dinner."

Tamlin offered Shamur his arm. As they departed the solar, Vox silently followed. When Tamlin glanced back at him, the mute barbarian touched his forehead and unfolded one fist in a gesture like a blossoming flower.

Yes, Tamlin signed back. My dreaming eye is open.