Annon stared at him in shock. He shook his head, amazed. “You’ve been provoking him deliberately? When you had Prince Aran . . .”
“Precisely,” Tyrus said. “In order to be convincing, I needed to appear that my judgment was flawed. That I was doomed to repeat the same mistakes of the past. Only Aransetis knew my ruse. My goal was to trick Kiranrao into believing we would fail. It appears I also convinced some of you. And Paedrin too. Let me be clear. My motives are what they have always been. I’ve employed subtlety and deceit to further my aims, but I do intend to carry on this quest to the end. Losing Kiranrao with the blade inside the Scourgelands was part of my design from the beginning. He will draw many of the defenses after him and hopefully that means fewer will face us. But deceiving a master deceiver isn’t easy. He needed to believe, from looking at all of your faces, that you also thought I was out of control. I apologize for the deception. Now you know its intent.”
Hettie screwed up her face. “That comes with little solace, Uncle. You’ve managed to leave Paedrin alone in the woods too.”
Tyrus looked at her shrewdly. “I did not know he would chase off after him like that. I admit that he surprised me. We cannot always predict what others will choose to do. He failed to trust me. If there is a way I can bring him back, I will. Let me think on it. We all need some rest. When the night comes, we will pursue our destination again.”
“Now that there are fewer of us, can the Tay al-Ard be used more frequently?” Annon asked.
Tyrus nodded, smiling. “Another benefit of my deception. Now that we have lost Kiranrao from among us, we can speak more freely. One of the things we need to do next is understand where the Mother Tree is in this forest. I have my suspicions, but I believe Phae can lead us there more quickly. I’ve deliberately had you avoid speaking to the Dryad trees, for I believe that the Arch-Rike is connected to their minds. It’s a risk, but one we may need to take to get to our destination faster. We will mourn those we’ve lost. We will rest a little while and tend to our injuries. We cannot stay here for long.”
Annon stared at Tyrus, not sure what he should feel about the situation. His heart ached for those they had lost, yet he knew the risks had been great from the beginning. Hettie’s face showed a frown of bitterness, but she was skilled herself at duplicity. Phae stared at her father sadly and said nothing.
Tyrus rose, his presence looming over them. His voice fell soft. “There is one more thing I must confess.” He looked at Annon and Hettie gravely.
Annon stared at him. Hettie grabbed Annon’s forearm, her look unsettled.
“I may have overused the fireblood already. Since we entered the woods, I’ve been haunted by a shade. The shade of your mother, Merinda. I’ve seen her several times already, including at the Fear Liath’s lair. She was pointing to the stone hidden in the tree. I heard her whisper your name, Annon.”
A shiver went down Annon’s back. “Maybe you aren’t mad, Tyrus. I heard it too.”
“We are reinforced by the King of Wayland. The Arch-Rike’s defenses within the city are formidable. Without ships, the soldiers are arriving somehow. It is some arcane power from the Paracelsus Towers that allows this. The fighting in the streets continues. The gutters overflow with blood.”
- Possidius Adeodat, Archivist of Kenatos
XXIII
Phae watched her father blanch at Annon’s words. He shook his head as if dizzied by the news. “I don’t know what this means. Does she watch over us? Is this a trap? Have we all gone mad?” He coughed roughly against his forearm, then shook his head with consternation. “Let me puzzle this through. We should tend to our injuries while we can. Hettie . . . I must rely on your healing skills.”
“I will do what I can,” she said, scrunching up her face. “I can make a salve that will draw out poison. I have some needles and thread for more serious wounds.”
“Work quickly,” Tyrus said, smiling gratefully. “I don’t know how long we can rest before the Weir find us again.”
“I can also help,” Shion said. “I’ve been trained.” He gripped Phae’s shoulder and nodded toward her blood-soaked sleeve.
“I will stand guard,” Prince Aransetis said. “Even I must grieve. In my own way.” His dark eyes hardened, his jaw clenching with buried anger. He stalked away from the little grove a short distance and began to pace the perimeter, gazing into the dark woods as he made the circuit.