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“How long have you been out here?” he asked Hathui in a low voice.

“Too long, Your Majesty.”Advertisement

“Still nothing?”

“Nothing. If Liath cannot see within the flames, then I think no one can.”

He and Hathui waited in companionable silence. Liath had a remarkable capacity to focus; she did not once shift, not even to brush the hair away from her cheek as the wind stirred it, which surely must distract her. He twitched, wanting to smooth back her hair, wanting to touch her. She seemed blind and deaf to their presence, although they stood just behind her. He could never be so close to her and ignore her so thoroughly. She was a roaring fire to him, a force impossible to shut out. The heat of her smote him, although he doubted anyone else noticed it. He was the one who burned.

“Isn’t she cold?” he asked, but Hathui only shrugged, and because he couldn’t stand not doing something he went back to the tent and fetched a cloak, which he draped over Liath’s shoulders. She did not thank him; if she noticed the thick cloak at all, she gave no sign.

He paced. Twice Hathui added wood to the fire. Neither time did Liath alter her intent stare, as if the Eagle’s movement and the hot lick of fresh flame did not register. After some time the darkness lightened, heralding dawn, and as a wind rose off the Alfar Mountains now south of them, she finally sighed and sat back, rubbing her eyes.

“Ai, God. No matter how deeply I search—” She looked up, then, and smiled, seeing him. “Aren’t you cold?” she demanded. “You’re practically naked!” She shuddered, drawing the cloak more tightly around her shoulders. “I’m freezing.” She laughed. “Where did this come from?”

He shook his head, a little disgusted, if truth be known. Resigned. Amused. She was not the woman he had believed he married.

“What news?” he asked instead, offering her a hand.

She took it and let him pull her up, dusted off her tunic and leggings, and blew on her hands to warm them. Her fingers were red from cold. “It matters not how deeply I search. It’s as if my Eagle’s Sight has vanished. There are twenty Eagles with this army, yet none of us can see through the flames. We are blind.”

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“I am no blinder than I was before.”

“True enough, my love, but I am blind, and I don’t like it because I don’t know what it means.”

“What it means to be blind? Like those of us who are not as gifted as you?”

She looked sharply at him, hearing the pinch in his words. “That isn’t what I meant at all! Eagle’s Sight gives us an advantage, nothing more. It gives a sense of surety that perhaps makes one overconfident. It’s as if a curtain has fallen across our vision, and we can catch only fragments and glimpses through a rip in the cloth. Was it the cataclysm that blinded us? Is it the haze and the clouds? Is it magic, woven by the Ashioi to cripple us? Was the Eagle’s Sight woven into the great crown in ancient days, and is it clouded because the crowns are fallen? I don’t know, and what I don’t know I can’t solve.”

“Are the crowns fallen?”

She rubbed her eyes, yawned, and he caught her under the arm. She leaned against him, eyes shut.

“Anne is dead. That’s all I know. Anne and everyone with her are gone.” Her sigh shuddered through her body. “I felt those who wove the other crowns until the moment Anne died and the crown she wove was destroyed. I cannot say if the others survived the fire and the storm. They may have, or they may be dead, too.”

“You don’t think every person at the other crowns died, too?” asked Hathui. “You said that you … that you destroyed everything—all life—within a league of the crown where Anne was.”

Liath pushed away from Sanglant, and when he reached for her, she shook her head, needing to stand alone. “I don’t know if the fire reached through the weaving to touch the others. Without Eagle’s Sight, I may never know. I am sorry for the sake of Meriam. I liked her.”

“She treated me with respect,” muttered Sanglant, “unlike the rest of them.”

Her gaze flashed to him, and a smile lifted her lips. “It is true, my love, that they did not treat you as you deserved. Yet consider that they are likely dead now, while we have survived.”

“I cannot regret their deaths, considering all we have suffered.”

“Nay, that’s not what I meant. Only that I never thought about what would happen afterward. Aren’t we blind in that way, all of us? We march toward the gate, but it’s the gate we see, not the land lying beyond. We can’t see that landscape until the gate is opened and we’ve stepped through. Then it’s too late to go back.” pqdm.com