“No,” Malcolm replied and shifted his sight back toward Suri. “She knows a way.”
The mystic’s tattoos drew together in a confused furrow on her brow. “But you just said I wasn’t strong enough against all of them.”
He nodded. “But you know something they don’t. You know how to make something that the Miralyith’s magic would be powerless against.”
Suri appeared even more puzzled and was shaking her head. “I don’t know what—”
She froze.
The tattoos around her eyes separated, and her brows jumped up. Her mouth opened, first in understanding, then in horror. The mystic’s head began shaking rapidly. “No—not that.”
“You can do it,” Malcolm said softly. “You’ve done it before.”
“No—I can’t.” Suri inched back, withdrawing from him, from all of them. Her fear-filled eyes darted to each of their faces as if they all plotted her death.
“It’s the only thing that will save us.”
Roan had her hands up to her mouth, her eyes reflecting Suri’s horror. Frost dropped the tongs he was holding, and Rain joined Suri in shaking his head.
“What’s going on?” Raithe asked. “What are you talking about?”
Malcolm replied by looking at Suri, who refused to answer. No one else said a word.
“Everyone knows what’s going on but me,” Raithe said. He focused on Roan. “What is it?”
The woman lowered her hands, and after a fleeting glance toward Suri, she said, “He wants her to make another Gilarabrywn.”
At the sound of the word, Malcolm turned with a curious look. “Gilarabrywn?”
Roan nodded. “That was her name.”
Malcolm thought a moment, then nodded. “Oh—I see; yes, of course.”
“I can’t do it.” Suri’s head was down, her fingers raking through her short hair. She gripped and pulled, making herself wince.
“A Gilarabrywn would be immune to their magic,” Malcolm told her. “It could end this battle. Might even end the war.”
“But I can’t!” Suri nearly screamed.
“I don’t understand. Why can’t you make this thing if it will save us?” Raithe asked.
Again, Suri didn’t answer. She drew in her arms and legs, closing on herself, collapsing. She gazed at all of them. “Don’t ask me to do that. Not again.”
Raithe looked to the others, then finally just stared at Roan once more.
“To make a Gilarabrywn, she has to kill an animal,” Roan explained.
“That’s no problem at all,” Tressa said. “There’s a dog, a filthy mutt that Filson used to feed that—”
“No!” Suri erupted in anger. “Not an animal. I don’t have to kill an animal.” I have to…I have to kill…it has to be a sacrifice.”
“Like a lamb?” Raithe asked. Lambs were animals, but that’s what they always used as sacrifices in Dureya.
“No! Not like a lamb—not a killing—a real sacrifice. This isn’t about slaughtering some innocent beast. It isn’t about destroying what might have been a nice meal. It has to be real, not symbolic. And it has to be mine. I have to destroy…I have to take a life that matters to me. Don’t you understand? I have to kill someone I love.”
By the surprise on the faces, this was news to everyone—except Malcolm, who placed a comforting hand on Suri’s shoulder. “In order to save the lives of everyone who went to Neith,” Malcolm told Raithe, “Suri sacrificed Minna.”
Raithe knew the wolf was missing, and he’d heard she’d been killed on their trip, but he had no idea that— “You loved Minna.”
Tears slipped down Suri’s cheeks as she nodded.
“Suri,” Malcolm said. “You have to make another Gilarabrywn or everyone will die. Not just us, but the Gula-Rhunes, too. And if the Fhrey succeed in winning here, the fane will order his army into Rhulyn where he’ll scorch the fields, burn the villages and dahls, and hunt every last human to extinction. As bad as that sounds, it won’t end there. The fane has lost reason, gone mad.” Malcolm looked to the three dwarfs standing by the anvil. “He knows the Belgriclungreian people helped. He knows about the iron weapons and the Orinfar.”
“We didn’t give either of those,” Frost protested. “The Orinfar was found in an old rol, and as for iron…” He pointed at Roan. “We didn’t give that. She stole it.”
Roan got to her feet. “And you stole the same secret from the Ancient One.”
“We didn’t steal it. My ancestors made a trade.”
“Which your ancestors didn’t honor, which means you stole it.”
Frost didn’t answer.