Carol Berg - THE SOUL WEAVER

I had no strength to explain that Gerick was innocent. What would it matter? “Do as you need. As long as I can stay with them for a while.”

She nodded, then took on the slightly vague expression of a Dar’Nethi who was speaking in someone else’s mind. When she was finished, I asked her about Ven’Dar.

“He collapsed once the Prince left the council chamber,” she said. “He lives, but has not regained his senses. We continue to hope.”

A short time later, Mem’Tara swept into the room, followed by a hobbling Ustele. Once she’d paid her respects to Karon, Mem’Tara began to examine the room, from every finger’s breadth of the walls and floor to the oily stain where the oculus, the mask, and the diamonds had vanished. Ce’Aret saw to old Ustele, who knelt hard-faced beside his son and grandson, laying his hand on the knife, perhaps to gain some understanding of the circumstances of its use. I believed it would tell him that Men’Thor had done the terrible deed, but I didn’t think it would tell him why or the part he himself had played in it. Even if it did so, I wasn’t sure that he would understand it. Who would mourn Men’Thor properly? Who would judge his place in Dar’Nethi history? Before very long, the old man shoved Ce’Aret aside and hobbled out of the room.

I watched all these activities with no more involvement than a star observing the actions of those of us who crept about on the world’s surface - until Mem’Tara, examining Karon’s body, reached out for the black pyramid. “No!”

I said, surprised at the strength of my own voice. “Don’t touch it.”

The dark-haired sorceress raised her eyebrows in question.

“I just - ” It was too personal. Too intimate. As if she were reaching out for Karon’s soul. I would not have him violated in such a way, even by someone well-intentioned. How could I explain it? Follow the Way… “Isn’t it true that the dead should not be moved for several hours? Isn’t that your custom?”

Mem’Tara nodded. “Why yes, that’s usual. So that the soul will have crossed the Verges and will not need to find its way back to this life. I was only going to examine the device, but if it concerns you, I’ll leave it for a while. But the Prince caused his own death…”

Dar’Nethi history and custom were very clear. No Healer would attempt to revive one who had caused his own death, especially a soul who had been returned to life once before. And no Healer in all of Gondai would touch Gerick.

My heart constricted, laboring to pump blood through my dry veins. “Thank you, Mem’Tara. That would be better.”

The tall woman moved on to other matters.

Roxanne began talking, then, allowing the safe solidity of speech to soothe her. She told me the story of her rescue from the Guardian’s dungeon, and how she had tried to order Gerick around and hurt him and humiliate him… and how she had never imagined that she could find friendship in that strange land. And then she told me then how Radele had come into the Masters’ Chamber at the Precept House while she was hiding there, waiting for Bareil…

“When he pulled out the ring and started it spinning, I knew it was wicked. Gerick was so horrified by the one in the cave of the Source, though he wouldn’t tell me what it was. But you had told me how he became a Lord and that the spinning ring was the Lords’ tool. Just seeing it made me feel sick. As the ring spun, this Radele began to speak, and I recognized his voice. He was the man I heard taunting my father on the night he was enchanted, the one touching him. If I’d had a weapon, I’d have killed him. Then I heard these other dreadful voices… horrid… just like here… though no one was in the room. As soon as Radele left, I ran out of the house. But I got lost and there were so many people around, and no one understood me. I thought that once it was daylight I could find my way. I’ve never been so glad to see anyone as I was when Paulo came running down the street, calling my name. But now - ” Tears dripped from the end of her nose. “By the Holy Twins, what manner of weakling queen will I be? I can’t stop talking. Can’t stop thinking.”

“You did the world a great service, Roxanne.” I put my arm around her and laid my cheek on her tousled hair. “This is just very hard.”

Ce’Aret offered one of her aides to attend us, so I sent Paulo and Roxanne with the woman to find something to eat. They needed something to do, while I, though I had no purpose in mind, had no desire but to stay exactly where I was. To leave was simply unthinkable.

I sat with my arms wrapped about my knees and began telling Karon and Gerick how desperately I would miss them. I crafted the words carefully in my mind as Karon had taught me to do so long ago. “It makes my head hurt when I have to sort out one of your thoughts from another,” he would say. “You always have fifteen ideas popping up at once, and very noisy opinions on all of them.” Ce’Aret and Mem’Tara must surely have believed I’d lost my mind to see me sitting by my dead family, smiling at the sweet remembrance. Or perhaps not. Finding joy, even in such overwhelming grief, was the very essence of the Dar’Nethi Way.

“Ah, Vasrin!” The exclamation came from behind me, startling me out of my drowsy contemplation.

“Ven’Dar!” The two Preceptors and I voiced our astonishment as one.

“A considerable delight to see you so quickly recovered, my lord,” said Ce’Aret, opening her palms and genuflecting. “We hoped.”

The Word Winder greeted the two women, and then his firm, warm hands enfolded my own, his kind eyes searching my face as if he could read the story of the battle from my grief. Though I welcomed the comfort and strength he offered, I knew what he needed to be doing. After only a moment, I gently pushed him away. He moved on to the two who lay beside me.

Standing beside the stone table, he swept his eyes over Karon. “Ah, my friend,” he whispered, laying a gentle hand on Karon’s brow, “what sorrow can compare with this, unless it is that you’ll never know what you’ve done? You never spoke of L’Tiere. Too close, you said. You had seen the Verges, and the desire would be too strong if you were to dwell on the memory. You wanted to give yourself to life. And so you did. But if there is knowledge of this life in the one that follows, then know this, my Prince, a message has already come to Avonar that rain falls in the Wastes. I cannot but think it is your doing.”

He took Karon’s hand and sat down beside him. Dar’Nethi leave-taking could extend a very long time, Karon had told me, but it always began this way, a little conversation, quiet meditation, embracing with eyes and heart the evidence of one’s loss. I did not disturb Ven’Dar. His presence was a comfort.

After a while he shook off his silence, came around the table and took my hand once more. “There are no words sufficient to this day, my lady, even for one so comfortable with words as myself. The event is too complex for ‘I’m sorry,’ and ‘thank you’ is far too ordinary.”

“To hear your hopeful news and to see you living is thanks enough. You will be D’Arnath’s Heir as my husband intended. I wish you a path of great beauty.”

He eased himself onto the stone platform beside me. “Would it pain you to tell me what happened? I’ve heard only bits and pieces since I’ve come back to my senses.”

“I believe it went very much as Karon had planned, even after he understood about Radele and the oculus. You probably know more than I do.”

“Not at all. He told me nothing of his plan save my own part: I was to be named his successor because it wasn’t possible for his son to serve, as the boy’s mind was still linked to the Lords. My first duty as his successor would be to bait the trap for Men’Thor with myself. Yes, you were to be his witness to tell the Preceptorate of Men’Thor’s treachery if it came necessary. That’s all I knew.”