The BridgeâTo cross these past two daysâmy first crossings since they anointed herâhas been extraordinarily difficult, as if I were a minnow swimming against a torrent, as if my heart knows I donât belong there any more.â
There must be something. You have never been driven by pride or greed. Think. Then tell me one thing that makes you doubt.
VenâDar folded his arms, closed his eyes, and held still for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was calmer, uncertainty banished. âShe has built herself a great house in Grithna Vale, and in the last two months she has begun to take in people the Healers have judged too ill to benefit from their gift.â
Those like me.
âYes.â The prince stepped to the bedside. âA hospice she calls it. Lady DâSanya uses her power to ease their sufferingâsuspend their death, as it were. Those who were bound to their beds are no longer; those whose eyes or heart or limbs were failing now have use of them. As long as they do not leave the confines of the hospice, they are as they were before they were stricken . . . except for their talents. They cannot pursue sorcery of any kind. But they feel no pain and do not die. Even after so short a time, public opinion considers those who suggest this result is not a blessing to be, at the least, foolish and self-deceiving. I donât know whatâs come over them all.â
A seductive . . . most seductive outcome . . .
VenâDar wandered across the room to the wide windows and back again. âJeâReint and I have gone over this a hundred times. DarâNethi have viewed death as a passage to be accomplished in peace and care when the Way leads us to it, not some fearful event to be avoided at the cost of our innermost being. I have spent my life teaching that the source of our power is accepting whatever joys and sorrows life grants us and viewing them in the larger perspective of the universe. To admit that this woman is DâArnathâs daughter and this hospice a reflection of his philosophy that we have called our Way is to give up my foundation. I cannot do it. Not until Iâm sure.â
Though he spoke to all of us, VenâDarâs gaze settled on Gerick, who sat with his chin propped on his clenched fists and his eyes on the floor. âAnd she has come out of ZhevâNa. How can I trust her? I came to you yesterday to ask if you would meet with her . . . read her . . . and tell me where Iâm wrong.â
I hear more urgency in you than these events can explain. Youâve five months before a final decision must be made. You say the woman herself does not push for you to yield, and even the people see how she needs time to be ready for such responsibility. Why the hurry?
VenâDar sighed and looked down at Karon with sorrow and affection. âYou leave me no choice but to burden you with everything?â
You may have service of all the resources I can muster at presentâthe paltry few.
VenâDarâs rueful smile unfolded like a mothâs wings, and he returned to the bed, perching on the stool once again. âDespite all, Iâm happy youâre here, my friend. It is a considerable relief to share all this with you. Can you forgive me?â
Tell me.
âWe never knew how many Zhid the Lords controlled. We captured or killed a great number in the year following the Lordsâ death. Though leaderless and directionless, they couldnât stop fighting. Over the next two years, Zhid renegades drifted in one by one from the Wastes, often starving, weak from lack of power. Still vicious, though. Some of them claimed that thousands more were holed up in the northern mountains. But our Finders could locate no such colonies, so we dismissed their claims.
âIn the fourth year, the trickle stopped. Not one more Zhid in the months after. Weâve kept searching with no result. But half a league from the place the Lady
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