“You have Erlin’s memories?”
“In a manner of speaking. Much of his knowledge resides in me, but not how he acquired it. So much slips away as the years pass.”
“So you also have the Ally’s knowledge?”
Weaver’s expression became markedly more clouded. “More than I would like.”
“He spoke of the wolf. I would know what he meant.”
“He meant . . .” Weaver frowned, struggling to find the right words. “He meant there’s a reason why you’re willing to let me go. He meant that we are all, regardless of what gifts we may possess, very small and brief lights upon this earth. The difference is I am happy to accept it, he never was.”
He got to his feet and started back towards the house he shared with the Politai. “Please give my regards to the queen,” he said, pausing at the door, “and, when she sends assassins to follow my trail, tell her to be sure to choose well.”
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He watched Reva from the bow of the ship, needing no song to discern what passed between her and Lady Lieza as they embraced on the quay. The girl drew back, head bowed and fighting tears as she moved to the queen’s side. Reva made her final bows and ascended to the ship with her tall guardsman at her back, the assembled Realm Guard lifting their weapons in salute and voicing a shout that echoed across the harbour.
“Louder than the one you got, brother,” Nortah observed with a grin.
“I think she earned it.”
“My lot didn’t even come to see me off. Probably still squabbling over their list of rightful demands for the queen.”
“Rightful demands?”
“Yes, they want to choose their own officers, an end to land ownership and the right to appoint the queen’s councillors. Can you imagine? Faith save us from the newly freed.”
Vaelin joined Reva at the stern as the ship made its way through the narrow harbour mouth, the walled moles thick with cheering people, their words meaningless to him but she was able to discern a few. “Livella is reborn,” she murmured, watching the torrent of flowers arc into their wake. “Perhaps Varulek will get his gods back after all.”
“Varulek?” he asked.
“A dead man, and servant to dead gods.” She surveyed the cheering throng as they drew away, the helmsman taking them into the Cut as the captain ordered the sails for a westward tack, towards the distant ocean. “Not long ago many of these would have been screaming for my death in the arena. Now they rejoice at my survival.”
“They are not alone.” Vaelin glanced at the young guardsman, standing at a respectful distance, his gaze rarely straying from the Blessed Lady. “It seems you have your own Iltis.”
“I offered Guardsman Varesh a boon for his service.” Reva gave the youth a somewhat strained smile. “All he asked was to stay at my side. I’m minded to find other employment for him when we get home.”
Vaelin turned to regard the three hulking troop-ships now pulling away from the quayside, each laden with Cumbraelins. A few had elected to stay, lured by the generous pay the queen offered for experienced archers, but most chose to follow the Blessed Lady home. “Lord Antesh has already begun to quote from the Eleventh Book I hear.”
“He has recovered much of his fervour since Alltor,” she said. “And more since coming here. I think I preferred him jaded. The world might be a better place were it ruled by disappointed souls.”
“Shouldn’t you write that down? The Blessed Lady’s wisdom should not be wasted on a heretic.”
She gave short laugh then lowered her gaze, her voice taking on a sorrowful pitch. “I told Antesh it had all been a great lie. Never once in my life have I heard the Father’s voice. Not during the siege and not here. He said, ‘You are the Father’s voice, my lady.’”
Her eyes went to Alornis, busy tending to the engine on the starboard rail. Apparently it could spit flame, with fearsome results if the accounts Vaelin had heard were true. Alornis seemed incapable of leaving it alone, her deft hands removing the various plates to explore its mysterious insides, her face rapt, uncaring of anything else.
“I’d happily tip that thing into the sea,” he said. “But these devices of hers are the only thing that brings any life to her eyes.”
“Then let’s discover why.” Reva went to crouch at Alornis’s side, watching her work for a moment before asking a question. Vaelin expected his sister to ignore her, as she often ignored him, but instead she seemed to become enthused, hands moving with passionate animation as she pointed to the machine’s innards, explaining each pipe and spigot in detail as Reva nodded encouragement.
He watched them for a time, seeing his sister relax, even voicing a laugh or two, then found his gaze drawn inexorably to the canvas-wrapped bulk lashed to the mainmast. The queen’s instructions had been clear, lacking any ambiguity, but still he found the questions plagued him. What do we do with it?
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