She left Miro standing on the porch without saying a word. He thanked her with his eyes, entering the small house and replacing Amber at his sister’s bedside.
Not for the first time, Miro thought about his relationship with his sister. They had their own lives to lead, but they shared a bond, something that had kept them sane through the travails of their childhood.
"How are you?"
"I dreamt about you. Somehow I knew you were there with me."
"I’m sorry I wasn’t here, Ella. I’m sorry I left."
"No, don’t be sorry. I… I made some mistakes."
"We all make mistakes, and we all learn from them."
Ella looked away. There were no tears now, they had all been cried out.
"Do we really?"
"We do. We feel pain so that we learn. It’s only when we stop feeling pain that we should worry."
"Have you spoken to Amber? How does she feel, really?"
"Don’t worry, Ella. She understands. She really does."
"I didn’t want to ask, but is she going ahead with the marriage to Igor Samson?"
"She is." Miro’s expression grew pensive.
"But she’s already in love…"
"Yes, she told me."
"She told you?"
"She said she loves another, but he doesn’t love her in return."
"Oh. I see," said Ella, looking out the window.
"She wants you to stand with her at the wedding, Ella."
"Me? No. No, Miro, not that. Never."
"Ella, she’s your friend. She went to Dunholme, alone, to get a healer for you. She was almost killed by a couple of hunters who made sport with her. You know where she got that mark on her right ear? You must stand with her; it is an honour."
"No, Miro. No. How could I ever…? No."
Miro decided to leave it alone for now. "I heard you did some amazing things at the Academy. They say you’re the next High Enchantress."
"I’ll never go there again," Ella said firmly. She wouldn’t meet Miro’s eyes.
Miro sighed.
"I’m sorry, Ella. It must have been tough here. I expected to return to a warm welcome and an order for more cherl for Brandon. Instead I returned to find he was gone. And you were so sick. You terrified me, Ella. You were so fragile, like when you were younger. I never told you, but Brandon said you were sick for months after our parents died. Please, don’t do that again."
"I… I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry."
For a moment they sat, silent. Miro could tell Ella was drawing away, the way she sometimes did. Putting that solid wall up again, where he couldn’t get in.
"But tell me, how was the journey? What happened?" she said.
"It was… eventful." Miro remembered again the lust, the fear, the blood, and the aftermath.
"You can tell me more than that. The ship, what was it like."
Miro took a breath. "It was beautiful, the most graceful ship I have ever seen, I can honestly say that, nothing like our little river boats. The Buchalanti..."
"The Buchalanti! Are you telling me you sailed on one of their ships?"
Miro grinned. "Yes. A storm rider called the Infinity."
"I’m so terribly jealous! What were the Buchalanti like?"
"They were like the sea — solid, yet fluid and graceful. The men and women look a great deal alike. The Sailmaster told me…"
"You spoke with the Sailmaster!"
"Ella, please. I’m trying to tell you…"
They spoke for a long time, Miro telling Ella a more or less complete version of events, keeping it light, leaving out the darker details.
He wasn’t sure what to say about the Chorum, so he glossed over it. Yet his mind wandered, his eyes saying more than his words.
With the Emperor’s peace broken — the Primate’s protection meaningless — most of the delegations had left the city with alarming speed, seeking the safety of their own borders. With their Lexicon lost and loremaster killed, Raj Halaran had been seriously weakened.
High Lord Tessolar had offered the Halrana lords passage on the trader ship, but the proud Legasa had politely declined. Tessolar reaffirmed the Alturan commitment to the Ring Forts, while High Lord Legasa again pushed for more decisive action.
Lord Marshall Devon, the commander of Altura’s forces, had stayed in Tingara. His task was to buy the allied houses the time they needed to prepare for any coming confrontation.
"Do the men really all have their heads shaved in Seranthia?"
"Not all of them, only the loyalist Tingarans."
"But isn’t everyone in Seranthia a Tingaran?"
Miro paused, unsure of how to explain it to someone who only really knew Sarostar.
"Not really, no. There are people from all over the world, Builders from Torakon. Veznans, even many Alturans, although you wouldn’t know it to speak to them. They’ve spent so long in Seranthia even their accent has changed."
"What are they doing in Seranthia?"
Miro wondered how to explain the sheer volume of goods passing through the ports and trade routes of Seranthia, the immense wealth of the merchants. "Buying and selling goods, negotiating for services. Administering the city and the realm."
"It sounds amazing. I wish I could go there and see it for myself."
"It is amazing. It’s also sad though."