David Drake - Mistress of the Catacombs

“The weaver, let’s say, Ilna,” Tenoctris said quietly. “That name will do as well as any other.”

“The weaver, then,” said Ilna with a smile so wry it looked bitter, “of this fabric wasn’t human. Of that I’m sure.”

“I’m not sure there really was an Intercessor Echea,” Tenoctris said in the same soft voice as before. “Someone, something, may have walked and talked in the flesh of a person named Echea, but I don’t believe the animating force was human.”

She smiled and rose. “I think it’s time we leave Garric,” she said. “It’s getting dark, and I suspect I understand better than you younger people how easy it is to become overtired when one isn’t in the best condition. Which I haven’t been for many, many years.”

“Right!” said Cashel, smiling at Sharina. His face sobered, and he said, “Ah, Garric? Want me to carry you to your rooms?”

“I’ll stay here for a moment to think, if that’s all right,” Garric said. “I have a litter to ride in. I feel silly, but it’s better than crawling—which is the choice.”

Laughing, Cashel led them out—Tenoctris between him and Sharina, Merota with Ilna and Chalcus. Ilna looked over her shoulder for a moment, nodded, and walked on.

Does she guess? Garric wondered.

“ If she wants to know, she knows ,” Carus said. His look was far away, on his own past and a woman there who had died. “ Anyway, they’ll all know soon .”

Garric levered himself to his feet, using the stone railing as a brace. He turned and looked eastward, over the city that had returned to the Kingdom of the Isles for the first time in a thousand years.

The sun had almost set. Streaks of cloud on the western horizon cut its swollen redness into three segments. Light flared onto the bank of clouds far to the east, rosy columns mounting from the sea to the high heavens.

Liane would be coming across the Inner Sea on the squadron that brought Reise. A feeling of warmth eased the pain Garric felt from standing.

“I’m not going to move the capital from Valles back to Carcosa,” he said, speaking aloud but in a whisper that only he and the ancient king could hear. “But I think it’s a good place to hold the marriage.”

“ Yes, lad ,” said the grinning Carus. “ It’s a fine place for the King of the Isles to wed! ”