Nancy Berberick - Prisoner of Haven

And so Usha simply looked back, for as long as they would be still and let her. Then she went on, trying to hold on to the faint warmth on her lips, the memory of Loren’s last kiss.

The road wound ahead of Usha, the familiar curves, the hills, the sunlight falling between the branches of the trees in great golden dapples. Dressed in her borrowed clothing, she walked beside Dezra. They were quiet-the silence of weariness, the silence of uncertainty.

Once Usha said, “I look around me, and it seems like I’ve come from one world into another. I think about Haven, the trapped people ringed round by walls and kept prisoner in a city that was once their home… Dez, it’s hard not to think it was a nightmare I’ve just awakened from.”

“I don’t think our time in Haven was a nightmare,” Dez said. “I feel every day of it in my bones.”

Ahead, Aline topped a hill, Madoc close behind. They stopped, waiting for their friends to catch up.

“They’re going now,” Dez said.

Usha nodded. Not to Solace, for Aline wanted to go down to Schallsea, and Madoc thought it would be a good idea. He’d said nothing about his family, though Usha knew that the mage’s brother lived there, perhaps a sister as well. A good idea to Madoc these days was any idea Aline had.

“I can’t say I thought this would ever happen,” Dez said, watching the two at the top of the hill. “First time you told me their story…” She shook her head. “Well, it wasn’t promising.”

Usha smiled because what Dez said was meant to make her smile. She’d rather have walked in silence until it was time to make this next farewell.

“Lady Usha,” Madoc said when they came to the top of the hill. “It’s time.”

He bowed over her hand, a gallant in the guise of a down-at-the-heels mage. As though she were yet his patroness, he thanked her and told her he was ever at her service.

Aline’s sweet homely face flushed with emotion. “Usha, I will miss you.”

Usha took her hands and held them. Between the two something passed that had no words-a history of hope and sorrow and fear, and hope again.

The parting with Dezra was one of comrades in arms, and after Dezra said to Usha, “Down and over the next hill, we’ll see home.”

It was so-the chimneys standing proudly above the roof of the Inn of the Last Home. What would the place be like without Caramon? Usha glanced at Dez and saw her wondering.

“We’ve been gone a long time,” Usha said.

Dez nodded. “Not by the calendar, but a long time.”

They went down the last rocky slope toward the town in the vallenwood, and when they could see the smoke rising from the chimneys, Usha said, “Dez, Loren’s right. It was past time he took a stand to save what he loves.”

Dez waited, carefully quiet.

“And it’s past time I took a stand. Palin and I have to talk. I don’t know how things will turn out for us. I don’t know whether all the wounds we’ve inflicted on our marriage can heal. But if we’re both running away, healing has no chance at all.”

Her eyes on the inn, Dez said, “Do you love my brother?”

“I won’t ask forgiveness for loving Loren, Dez. Not of you or anyone. But Palin and I…” She shook her head. “All that’s gone wrong between us couldn’t hurt so much if I didn’t love him. Right now, I can’t say more than that.”

Dez looked down the road to the inn. Usha saw her thinking. She saw her struggle with something. Patiently, she waited, as she’d waited through the days and nights when Dezra fought in battles Usha could only imagine. As then, her patience was rewarded.

“You don’t have to say more than that to me, Usha. When all the questions pour down on us about what went on in Haven, I’m backing anything you’d like to say. Now come home, sister. Our family is waiting.”