The Simbul’s Gift

"She won't answer them if she sees you've still got the knife she gave to Ebroin," Chayan said with a smile.

The forester flipped the knife, testing its balance, examining its steel, before handing it back to Bro. "Did she tell you it's Thayan-made?"

Bro gulped and hesitated before slipping the blade into its sheath. "Should I keep it?"

Halaern nodded. "But be careful who you show it to. With wizards about, it could be easily misunderstood—at least until we get rid of the wizards. It could be done—the getting rid of them, that is—with the Simbul's permission, of course. They're hardly wise in the ways of the Yuirwood, especially where magic's involved, and I don't think they know any more than we do—probably less. None of them speak the Cha'Tel'Quessir dialect. They're spying, but they aren't learning anything. They're following Rizcarn, like everyone else."

The forester was staring at his cousin again. Bro began to understand that Halaern had sent Chayan into the camp to be his eyes and ears since Halaern, himself, would have been recognized.

"I met her once," Chayan said. "I don't think I'd do anything without her permission, cousin. If she wants to give those Red Wizards more rope, it's not your decision to hang them early."

"Of course not. I won't do anything without her word. But I don't like it, not one bit. Thayan wizards don't belong here."

Bro agreed. "It's our forest. The Red Wizards are our enemies, too. The Simbul would never know if I told Yongour and the others—"

The forester held up his hand. "Don't even think about it, Ebroin."

"The Simbul doesn't know everything. She's not always right. Everyone's dead in Sulalk because of her." Bro could almost feel Chayan and Halaern wishing he would be quiet. They were looking at each other, not at him. "I'm not blaming her, not anymore, but the Simbul's not here, we are, and so are the Red Wizards."

"He has a point, cousin," Trovar Halaern said; Bro felt himself grow a handspan in his own estimation. "My lady, the Simbul, is not here, is she?"

Chayan looked very uncomfortable.

Bro pressed his luck. "More Cha'Tel'Quessir could be killed, and not just me. What about Lanig? What happened to him? Chayan said that was magic, too."

"Lanig?" the forester asked.

"Cha'Tel'Quessir," Chayan said quickly. "Ebroin and I found his body yesterday across the camp stream. Looked as if he'd been torn apart by something large, but my best guess is magic."

"Not Red Wizard spells, cousin. There were no wizards near the camp yesterday."

"You're certain? The solitaire didn't double back?"

"There were no wizards near the camp yesterday, cousin. If a man died by spellcraft yesterday, something else killed him, something far more subtle than any Thayan wizard, if neither you nor I knew about it until after it happened."

It was Chayan's turn to stare and the forester's to look uncomfortable. Bro had a suggestion:

"Why don't you come to the camp? Rizcarn's not there and they need an elder, especially with Red Wizards and worse all around us."

"I serve the Simbul, Ebroin, and she wants me in the forest for now. I'll send you back with Chayan. The two of you together should be equal to an elder. I'll take my leave of you now, cousin and friend. I'm sure your day will be more interesting than mine."

The elder of YuirWood bowed, took two steps into the forest and simply vanished. Bro couldn't contain his astonishment. His jaw dropped and he'd swear he heard Chayan laughing, though her lips hadn't moved.

"You seem to have recovered fully from your misadventures."

"The holes hurt a little, the cautery burns itch a bit. I—I want to apologize for the way I was yesterday. I think, maybe ... I hope it was poison."

"I could check: take off your shirt and the bandages, see if everything's healed."

She was teasing him again, seeming to say one thing while meaning another. Bro kept his shirt laces where they were. "We should go back to the camp."

"Has something happened? Aren't they still debating whether to walk or wait?"

"I told them to wait until tomorrow, then start walking."

"Clever of you, Ebroin. You have another day to finish healing. You don't like the Simbul much, do you?"

"I said I'd stopped blaming her. Maybe it wasn't her fault or mine that everyone died. I wish it never happened. I wish a lot of things never happened."

"Everyone does. Me, my cousin, even the Simbul herself. I could wish you hadn't fallen asleep last night."

Bro fought a blush and won. "There're Red Wizards all around us, and whatever killed Lanig."

"I'll keep one hand on my spear, Ebroin. That way, we'll be evenly matched."

If he'd had the sense Great Corellon gave a lowly ant, Bro would have started walking back to the camp, but he didn't, not even when Chayan left her spear right where it was, leaning against a tree.

He was pleased with himself later, when they did return, hand in hand, to the camp. At least until he saw a Cha'Tel'Quessir with raven hair. Rizcarn hailed him as soon as he was inside the camp.