Epilogue
Disaris stood in front of the Merisack and grasped her sister’s hand. “Are you sure you want to do this? You don’t have to. I’d never expect it of you. You can stay here. The people of Gatisek would welcome you. Everyone there knew you were a prisoner of the Daggermen.”
Luda pulled her into a hug. “I want to go. I owe it to you and Bron. You both risked your lives, traveled through a lim portal, were pursued by a battle mage…” She turned her head and offered a bow to Cimejen who stood beside her.
“I’ve become an itzuli too, though maybe not as good as you.
If my code breaking helps to end the war between the two kingdoms faster, then I’m happy to offer my service to General Golius. ”
Cimejen nodded. “The man isn’t picky about who the itzuli is, only that they can perform the task.
” He lifted up the large, thick bag he held in one hand.
“And presenting him with the Hierarch’s head should console him over the loss of his second battle mage.
” Both women cringed at the sound the bag made when he dropped it at his feet.
He bowed to Disaris. “I think my life was dull before I met you, Disaris jin Gheza. If Luda is anything like you, I’m sure I’ll be highly entertained while she serves under my command.”
Disaris returned the bow. “I put her in your capable hands. Please keep her safe.”
She held Luda tightly and kissed her cheek. “Be well and know I love you.”
She stepped far enough away from the stone to avoid its effects and watched as Luda took Cimejen’s hand and recited the nine-verse passage that would return them to the meadow where the Hayman Stone stood.
The violet light of lim magic surrounded the pair, pulsing thrice, then dying with a flash.
The symbols on the face of the Merisack stone still glowed, but her sister and Cimejen were gone.
She stayed nearby until the stone had gone completely dark, just in case some unwary passerby saw it and grew too curious for their own good. The sun was setting by the time she mounted her horse and rode toward Zaras’s cottage.
Two of the windows in the front were lit, a welcoming beacon against the coming dark.
The grave dug on the eastern side of the house faced sacred north so that the dead might take the shortest route to the Bright Lands.
Disaris had stopped on the way home to pick wildflowers growing along the road.
She placed them on the grave and bowed, tapping her steepled fingers against her forehead three times.
“May we one day share cake at your table, again, Zaras,” she said.
When she entered the house, she smelled afresh the scent of the soap Zaras had made. The woman still lingered here, not as a haunting, but as a memory. When her son sold the house to Disaris, he’d also given her the soap recipe.
The pleasant scent was mixed with the much more astringent odors of medicinal tinctures and salves. She passed the kitchen, the table there covered from one corner to another with bottles, mortar and pestle, and sheaves of dried herbs.
She opened the door to the room she’d shared with Bron one wondrous evening before one horrific day and leaned against the doorframe to stare inside.
It was still a small room with a small bed, made even smaller by the large injured man sleeping in it. He opened his eyes, palest blue in the fading light slanting through the window. “Are they gone?”
Disaris crossed the room to perch on the side of the bed. “Yes, though I wish Luda would have stayed. She’s far nobler than I am. Braver too.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. I bet she wouldn’t have kissed Ceybold in the Bravery challenge. You didn’t go off and marry him again while I was sleeping, did you?”
“Considering he’s quite dead, no.”
After Bron and Cimejen had destroyed the Daggermens’ lair and killed all within it, Cimejen and Luda had returned to the ruins. It was Luda who discovered and recognized what was left of Ceybold.
Bron laughed at her dry quip, only to inhale a sharp breath and wince.
Disaris stood and leaned over him to adjust his pillow. “I told you to keep still as much as possible. You took an arrow, not a cat-scratch. Don’t undo Cimejen’s work. He almost died himself for the effort.”
“He owed me for not killing him at the Nesting Grounds. He hates owing anyone anything.” He caught her by her shirt and tugged until her mouth hovered just over his. “I’m sick of this bed. Unless you’re in it with me.”
She kissed him, a full deep caress of tongue and mouth that promised much more when he was healed. He took her hand, sliding it down his body to the bulge that tented the blankets. “The moon rises,” he said, his smile curving against her lips.
Disaris sputtered with laughter. “And the star waits.”
END