Wizards At War

Roshaun’s father looked at the Sunstone, and shook his head. “I will not wear it again,” he said. “I think it’s yours now. For look—”

She looked at it. The stone had been clear; now it had gone a much lighter gold than it had been. “It did that before,” she said.

“It is a sign of the mastery passing to another,” Roshaun’s father said. “It seems to have become attuned to another star.”

“Mine,” Dairine said. “Ours is this color.”

There was a long pause. Roshaun’s father reached out to the stone, and then pulled his hand back. “It is still active,” he said. “There are some routines that you should learn. He would have wanted to know that its power was not wasted, that it was safe with one he had—” Roshaun’s father broke off. “That he thought worthy of his attention. Some of those usages you could be taught. With proper supervision…”

Dairine got a clear sense of what terrible control Roshaun’s father was exercising over himself. She was determined to show that hers could be as great as his; here, in particular, at this point in a life that had been so much about control—and in which she’d lost so much control lately. “I’d like that,” she said, “if you have the time.”

“There’ll be nothing but time now,” Roshaun’s father said. He gazed down at Dairine and reached out a hesitant hand to touch the necklace that just showed under the collar of her shirt. There, around her neck, where it would stay, was the fat, round, gleaming emerald threaded on a single sentence in the Speech. It was not until a little earlier, when Dairine had had a moment by herself, that she’d had time to read what that sentence was. She was determined not to think about it now. She’d just cry again. “And what we taught him—” Roshaun’s father said. “That we can teach you, so that you can guarantee the safety of another world as he guaranteed his. Another star.”

“Thank you,” Dairine said. She was controlling herself very tightly, for right now, more than anything, she wanted to say to them, even to shout at them, Stop talking about him in the past tense! As if he’s—But she couldn’t say it. Part of her was certain that she was deluding herself. The thought, You’re just in denial! was already coming up. To say out loud what she really believed would merely guarantee that other people would think she was in denial, too.

But I can’t believe it yet. I can’t say anything until I’m sure. Not until I’ve made that one last test.

Dairine looked from Roshaun’s father to his mother. “Our world is going to need some straightening up after all this trouble,” she said. “It’s going to take a long time to get things back to normal. But as soon as I can come, I will.”

She turned and looked across the vast plain of the sunside. “But he loved you,” Dairine said. “Whatever else he would have wanted you to know, he’d have wanted to make sure you knew that.”

She had to go, then; she felt her control starting to slip. Back by the railing, Spot waited for her, silent. As she headed back, the darkness of a worldgate opened for her. Dairine stepped through, not looking back, and vanished from Wellakh.

***

No matter what Tom had told her to do, it took Nita a long time to get settled enough to rest. She walked Kit home, and talked to his parents, and reassured them as much as she could that they were both in fairly good shape. But all Mr. and Mrs. Rodriguez had to do was look at Kit to tell that there was a lot more to be said on the subject. It was Carmela’s mental state—thoroughly confused but still basically cheerful—that reassured them most.

And then everything started to catch up with Nita: she actually began to fall asleep on the dining room sofa while Carmela told them about what had happened on the Moon. Nita opened her eyes very wide and got up. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I’ve gotta go.” She said her good nights to Kit’s folks and headed out into the driveway.

He followed her out. They stood there together for a moment, looking at the Moon.

“I miss him already,” Kit said. “It really hurts.”

Nita nodded. “I know,” she said. “Even though he’s okay. More than okay.” She shook her head. “It’s not the same.”

She yawned. “Oh, God, I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s not that— You know I don’t—”

“I know,” Kit said. “Go on, go home, get some sleep. We’ve got an early morning.”

“Yeah,” Nita said. But Kit didn’t move to go inside.

“You’ve been hugging everybody else in the place,” he said after a moment.

Nita turned around and gave Kit a hug calculated to be twice as emphatic as any she’d given anybody else. Then she held him a little ways away.

“You’re not all right,” she said in the Speech. “I’m not all right, either. But we will be.”

“Is that a precognition?” Kit said.

Nita smiled very slightly. “Yes,” she said. “Now get in there and let them know it.”

Kit nodded, punched her lightly in the arm, and went inside.