“You can’t, Brin. There’s a war outside. It’s still going on. You know that.”
Although the deep pounding of the wall’s defenses was muffled and faint, Brin could still hear it. The explosions never paused.
“When it stops, I’ll go out and look. They can’t fight forever.”
Moya stared at her, shocked. “Brin, this is Nifrel. Of course they can, and probably will—and besides, we have to go to Alysin.”
“How, Moya? How can I? I can’t leave him . . . he died for me, not once but twice. He went into the pool.” Brin took a bitter breath and put a hand to her lips to hide their quivering. “He said . . . he said he did it just to stop the pain, but I don’t think so. He was so bent on revenge, but he gave that up—he gave it up for me.”
“So, Meeks was telling the truth?” Moya’s face hardened.
Brin nodded.
“How did you find out?”
“Tesh told me. He admitted it when trying to stop me from going into the pool. Tesh killed them all—murdered the Galantians one by one out of revenge.” Her eyes lowered, and her voice grew quiet. “I think that’s why he wanted to go to the swamp—why he didn’t want me to come. I think if he’d had the chance, he would have tried to kill Tekchin.”
Brin took her friend’s hands. “Please, Moya, don’t hate him. He had a reason. It wasn’t just any Fhrey that destroyed Dureya and Nadak. It was Nyphron and the Galantians. I know you love Tekchin, but he was part of that. Tesh saw them—all of them. They slaughtered the whole village, old men, women, and children. Tekchin has blood on his hands, too. They both do.”
“Nyphron said he was the only one who refused to obey the fane’s order, that he and the Galantians were the only Instarya that didn’t slaughter Rhunes.”
“There was no order, Moya,” Brin said. “Only Dureya and Nadak were ever attacked. They were sacrificed to convince the rest of us that we had to fight. The fane never wanted this war. Nyphron did.”
“Are you saying Nyphron started the war?” Moya rocked where she sat.
Brin looked into Moya’s eyes. “I . . . I think so, yes. He wants revenge against the fane, but his god prohibits Fhrey from killing Fhrey, so he made us do it. He put the blood on our hands so his could remain clean.”
Moya stopped rocking and stared at Brin. “And Tesh knew this and didn’t tell anyone? He never told Persephone? If he had spoken up instead of seeking his personal revenge, she might have—” Moya shook her head. Her eyes roamed the room as her mind worked to absorb more than she likely wanted to know. “Oh, Brin . . . they married and had a child!”
Brin closed her eyes, and tears ran down her cheeks. Moya was right. Since learning about what Tesh had done, she hadn’t had the time to consider the implications. Now that she saw it, the horror left her overwhelmed and lost.
Brin felt arms pulling her close, reeling her back. “Shhh, shhh, Brin, it’s all right. It’s okay.” Moya’s hands stroked her hair as the two rocked together, the motion soothing away the impact. “Don’t . . . don’t do this to yourself. You couldn’t have known.”
“My mother was right—the world is broken. It’s like an avalanche, and it gets bigger as each rock is set into motion. Lothian brutally murdered Nyphron’s father, so Nyphron warred against him. Before Tekchin met you, he thought Rhunes were the same as animals, so he thought nothing about following the orders of his friend. Tesh thought it was his responsibility to avenge his family, and now Persephone has had a child with a man that was responsible for thousands of her people’s deaths. Where does it all stop? If we manage to return to Persephone . . . do we tell her the truth? Or will that just make matters worse? Will it be another rock that sets a huge boulder rolling?”
“It would put her in an impossible position,” Moya said, “She couldn’t ignore the transgressions, but Nyphron has proven he’s too dangerous to imprison or exile. So what can she do? Execute the father of her child? Would his absence ignite a power struggle between the clans? And how can we win this war without his military leadership? Oh, I don’t know what . . . ” Her voice trailed off as her own tears began to flow.
They hugged and rocked, rocked and hugged. For how long, Brin didn’t know. When at last she could think again, she pushed back, wiped her eyes, and said, “I still love him, Moya. Mari forgive me, but I do. Despite what he did, I can’t help myself.”
Moya sadly nodded. “I feel the same way about Tek.” She cupped Brin’s face and leaned in, until forehead touched forehead. “Tesh and Tekchin are clearly not the sharpest teeth in a hound’s mouth, but then neither are the women who love them.”
Beatrice’s bed frame was made of stone shaped to look like a grand sled. Upon it were a comfortable mattress, half a dozen brightly colored pillows, two dolls, and a stuffed dragon. The bedspread was a quilt of bright yellow with a flock of bluebirds stitched in the upper right-hand corner and a mountaintop in the lower left.
Why does she have a bed at all? Gifford thought. Do people in Nifrel sleep?
When Brin had started crying and Moya went over to sit beside her, Gifford and Roan had silently urged the others into the bedroom to grant them privacy. Each remained awkwardly just inside the door. No one dared sit on the bed.
Shelves decorated the walls and were filled with pretty ornaments—glass balls containing liquid and miniature scenes: a little mountain, a house, or dwarfs strolling through a forest. Gifford had picked one up, and artificial snow swirled, then settled. “Anyone else notice how . . . well, childish everything here is?” Gifford gestured at the bedchamber. “For a seer who commands the respect of so many important people in Mideon’s Hall, it just seems odd that her bedroom would be—”
“A nursery?” Tressa suggested. She finally took a seat on the chest at the end of the bed, which had a pretty tasseled cushion.
Roan likewise sat down, but on the floor. She put a lock of hair in her mouth and chewed.
“A bit older than that, but it does seem girlish, doesn’t it?” Gifford said. “Maybe she died young.”
“She did,” Rain told them. “The legend says she looked like a child when Mideon gave her hand in marriage. The war was going badly, and he needed an alliance. Many people believe he sold her for weapons.”
“Couldn’t have been too young,” Tressa said. “She was old enough to have a daughter.”
“Some would say that’s debatable,” Rain replied. “Seeing as how she died while giving birth.”
“How long we gonna stay in here?” Tressa grumbled. “It’s a bit cramped for all of us. Rain doesn’t even have enough room to properly pace, and his step-step-turn thing is starting to grate on me.”
Rain stopped walking and frowned. “Helps me think.”
“Really? Well, it’s driving me insane.”
Roan muttered, still chewing on her hair. “Moya is here.”
The others looked around, puzzled. Moya was still with Brin. Gifford could hear them whispering and occasionally weeping.
“She’s not, Roan. She’s in the other room.”