LITMIR.BIZ

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right now.”

      “There are no faint hearts in this camp, my lord.”

      “Nor in mine. But we will come across them, just as we will come across enemies stronger than you now imagine.”

      “I have seen what the lady can do, Lord Annuvil. Trust me, I can imagine.”

      Chapter Four

      We should listen in, Cilla thought, an impish smile on her dark features as she met Tess’s eyes.

      Without a doubt, Tess agreed, meeting her gaze. She was still sometimes surprised at the ease with which she and her Ilduin sisters could touch each other’s minds, and remembered the first time she had noticed this ability, as Sara and Tom had demonstrated their love for each other.

      Ahem! Cilla and Tess immediately looked to Sara’s window, where Sara was glaring back at them with a mock stern expression. Can a girl have a bit of privacy, please?

      Cilla put a hand to her mouth to suppress a laugh, mirth dancing in her eyes. But sister, you are the only hope we have!

      Get your own man, Sara thought with a toss of her head, followed by a wink.

      I’m trying, Cilla thought. I’m trying.

      Tess laughed aloud and drew Cilla aside. “Come, sister. Let us walk together and leave sweet Sara to enjoy her new marriage.”

      “Of course,” Cilla said. “’Twas only sport.”

      “And pleasant sport at that,” Tess said, her smile fading. “But as our men have gone to discuss things manly, perhaps we should take the opportunity to advance our own knowledge.”

      They walked toward the temple slowly, as if reluctant to end the celebratory mood and resume the hard work that lay before them. Even Tess’s visit to the Bozandari camp had seemed almost a royal visit, born of a dream. The snow wolves had slipped away into the hills around Anahar, and now, even with Cilla beside her, she felt very alone as she walked to face the gods.

      “Have you any news of Ratha?” Tess asked.

      “He has withdrawn within himself,” Cilla said, shaking her head. “I try to tell him it was not his fault that Giri fell, that it is not wise to grieve alone, but he will hear none of it.”

      “Do Anari believe in life after death?” Tess asked. For all the time she had spent in the temple at Anahar, she knew little of their religion.

      “Yes,” Cilla said. “Of a sort. Giri is beyond the veil now, in the garden of the gods, but his life there—if life it be—is nothing like life here. Those who pass beyond the veil become all and nothing, united yet unique. All of those beyond the veil can feel one another’s thoughts as we Ilduin can, if thoughts they have at all.”

      Tess nodded, ghosts of memories flitting through her mind, wispy and unapproachable.

      “You do not remember what your people believe,” Cilla said.

      “No,” Tess replied. “Although my heart tells me it was not far different from what you have said.”

      Cilla smiled. “Why did you ask?”

      “We grieve not for those who have passed,” Tess said. “Their pain has ended, their struggles complete. We ought not to be sad on their account, for the life they have now—whatever it may be—is better than any they have known. No, we grieve for ourselves, for the holes that are left in our own lives by the passing of those whom we loved.”

      “This we are taught as well,” Cilla said. “It is as if a piece of flesh has been cut from one’s arm. We do not feel the pain of the flesh which is gone. We feel the pain from the flesh that remains, raw and open and torn. Until the body can repair it, the pain remains. But it is never fully repaired, for the scar we build is not the same as the flesh it replaces.”

      “Exactly,” Tess said, squeezing her sister’s hand.

      “You are saying that Ratha needs time to build a scar over the hole that Giri’s death has left.”

      Tess nodded. “And until he can do that, dear sister, he will be too pained to feel your love for him. Or his for you.”

      “Give me not false hope,” Cilla said sharply. Then, after a moment. “Forgive me, my lady. I did not mean to scold you.”

      “There is nothing to forgive,” Tess said. “And I am not your lady, but your sister. I must have someone in my life who pays me no homage, but simply shares with me this journey of life.”

      Cilla nodded. “Yes, sister.”

      “And I give you no false hope,” Tess said. “Trust not in what you see on Ratha’s face just now, nor hear in his words. Ratha cannot look upon you, nor hear you, nor speak to you. Only his grief sees you, hears you, and responds. Grief cannot love. But Ratha can.”

      Tess sighed and looked down at the colorful, rainbow-hued cobbles beneath their feet, trying desperately to recall the song that the stones of Anahar had sung when they had summoned the Anari. That song had seemed to open doors within her, to fill her with a sense of awe that had been good, unlike much of the awe she had felt since awaking with no memory.

      “Grief,” she said, “is not a gentle thing, Cilla. It claws at us like a ravening beast, and is loathe to release us from its grip. Worse, we find it hard to accept that someone we love is lost to us for the rest of our days. ’Twould be easier for Ratha had Giri left on a long journey with no intent to return. For at least then he would have known his brother still existed somewhere within this world, and that eventually he might hear Giri’s voice again in this lifetime. He has no such hope now. But eventually he will find acceptance, and with acceptance he will return to you.”

      Cilla squeezed Tess’s hand. “I pray that you are right, sister. For my heart both leaps and aches every time I see him. Long did I gaze upon him in my childhood, when I hid among the rocks and watched him play. Longer, it seems, was he lost to me after he was taken away into slavery. Then he returned, and it felt as if I had found the missing part of my own soul. And now…”

      “Now he is gone again,” Tess said. “For a time. But only for a time, sister. You have been patient these many years. Let not patience fail you now.”

      “Listen to you two! Gloom and sorrow!”

      Tess and Cilla turned to see Sara, running to catch up with them. Her face shone with the glow of a new bride.

      “And why aren’t you in your room with your husband?” Tess asked.

      Sara giggled. “Men, it seems, lack…stamina.”

      Cilla held up a finger. “You asked for privacy, if I recall? Now you will tell us what we could have heard for ourselves?”

      Sara shook her head. “No. I have said all that I will. But a woman cannot live only in her husband’s arms. Not this woman, at least. I need time with my sisters as well. So scold me not for my presence, nor if I should leave you. Tom will not sleep all day, and I will be there when he awakens.”

      “I’m quite sure you will,” Tess said, laughing. She turned to Cilla. “Come, let us hurry to the temple, while he sleeps, lest Sara’s…needs…call her away before she can learn anything.”

      “Somehow,” Cilla said, “I think she is learning quite a lot. Just not of Ilduin lore.”

      Sara smiled. “With sisters such as you, a bride needs no groomsmother. Perhaps the gods will be more delicate.”

      “That,” Tess said, sighing, “would truly surprise.” And deep within her, she felt the stirring of anger, anger that her sister’s joy must be overshadowed, anger that they all grieved so much, not only for the past, but for the future as well.

      No one, she thought as her steps carried her closer to the temple, should have to grieve for that which had not yet passed. But that sorrow, it seemed, was the fate of the Ilduin.

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