Annon grimaced.
Nizeera laid her head back down on her paws, her tail beginning to sway like a serpentine thing.
Boots crunching in the sand approached. Annon turned to face Tyrus as he settled down next to the Druidecht.
“How are you feeling?” Tyrus asked him, which was an odd question. Tyrus had never seemed to care how Annon was feeling.
“Does it matter?” he replied. “I am well enough. I meant to thank you earlier . . . for letting me overhear your conversation with the Empress. She’s a remarkable woman.”
“I can see why the Boeotians worship her.” He sighed. “She is deft at manipulating men. I’m not sure whether I should be insulted or pleased that she played us so well.”
Annon’s eyebrows lifted. “Do you trust anyone, Tyrus?”
A reserved smile appeared before the reply. “The Romani have a saying: It is no secret that is known to three. While the Empress told us a great deal about what she wanted us to know, she did not reveal all of her motives. Notice she did not ask for mine either. If she had, I would have lost all trust in her immediately. Sensing this, she did her best to coax me into revealing it voluntarily. I nearly did, so powerful was her persuasion. But I have a duty to all of you, to protect your lives the best that I can. There are some secrets we must not share.” His voice dropped further. “Even from the others.”
Annon watched as Tyrus withdrew, surreptitiously, a ring from his finger. With one hand, he reached out and gripped Annon’s shoulder. As he did so, he dropped the ring into Annon’s lap.
A cold feeling welled up inside Annon’s heart. “What is that?” he whispered.
“A piece of Paracelsus magic,” he replied. He glanced over Annon’s shoulder, his eyes roving the camp. “I fashioned it myself. When you put it on, magic veils it and it cannot be seen, but you will feel it on your hand. It is connected to the Tay al-Ard, Annon. It will summon it into your hand directly. Do you remember when we faced Shion in Prince Aransetis’s manor and I vanished with him?”
Annon nodded.
“I used the Tay al-Ard to bring us to the waterfall where the Fear Liath keeps its lair. Because of the water and the pressure, I dropped it into the churn and swam free of the waters. I let Shion think I was dead so that the Arch-Rike would not feel the urgency to kill all of you. But I used that ring to summon the Tay al-Ard back into my hand from the bottom of the waterfall. I’m giving it to you.”
Annon swallowed, his eyes widening. Again he was struck by the amount of trust that Tyrus had placed in him—a boy. He breathed slowly, trying to understand what was going on.
“You would only give it to me if you felt you were in danger of losing it,” Annon whispered. His throat tightened with fear.
Looking into his eyes, Tyrus nodded. “It is important that you know about the ring and what it can do.” He bowed his head, his expression very grave, his teeth clenched with suppressed emotion. “Merinda went mad in the Scourgelands, Annon. She used the fireblood to save my life and keep me from dying. In return, she asked me to save your life. Yours and Hettie’s, it turns out.” He paused, building up his words. “If I must, I will do the same for you. Do you understand why I do this now? Kiranrao may kill me for the Tay al-Ard. If he does and slips away, you can bring it back to your hand with a thought. Be sure he is far away, though. And if I go mad in the woods—” He coughed, covering his mouth on his forearm. His steeled himself again. “If that happens to me and I’m holding the Tay al-Ard, then I will be too dangerous to confront. I must not keep the Tay al-Ard if that happens to me. The damage that I could do . . . I shudder to think on it. But if it happens, Annon, if I lose myself in there, I want you to send Shion after me. He is the only one of you who could do it without being destroyed himself. And I don’t want to burden any of the rest of you with such an awful task. Let him be the one. I don’t want to be left in the madness, Annon. Not like my sister.”
Tyrus dropped his arm, his shoulders sagging. He hugged his cloak tightly about his bulky frame, shivering in the dark. Annon stared at Tyrus, shaking at the revelations given. His insides roiled with pain and sorrow. How could Tyrus expect him to do these things? To face such heavy burdens?
“I need you, Annon,” Tyrus whispered hoarsely. “Promise me.”
Annon wanted to weep. He wiped his mouth, trying to master his emotions. “If there is another way—” he started to say, but Tyrus brooked no refusal.