A picture she’d snapped years ago of her mother and father came into her mind. Her parents were both smiling in the picture, but they were smiling at each other, not the camera. Her father had his arm around Lynn’s mother. Lynn had always liked that picture, but she’d left it at home when she moved to Chicago.

  If I forget—she thought, her throat tightening convulsively. “You will remember your parents, your brothers and sisters, and anything else that is important for you to remember, but you’ll forget the details of your old world, as you make a new home here,” Keshua told her.

  Lynn’s face clenched and she began to blink furiously. How could her body possibly produce more tears!

  “Tell me, Lynn.”

  “My family doesn’t know I’ve met you. They don’t even know where I am,” she blurted out.

  Keshua answered gently, “No, they don’t know those things, but they know me.”

  “They must think—. They have to hurt so—,” but Lynn couldn’t finish either sentence.

  “They are mine,” Keshua said, and the very air around him seemed to resound with the importance of his words. ‘’I’ll take care of them, and one day you and your parents and your brothers and sisters—Aunt Isabel too--will pass through death, as I did, and live with me! We’ll have a happy reunion then, eh?”

  Her face brightened, and Keshua touched her cheek lightly with one finger.

  “That’s better! Now you must go and take care of one who loves you. Learn to trust me, Lynn. Always, for the rest of your life, that’s what I want you to do. Learn to trust me.”

  “I will,” she promised, although her eyes started blinking again at the thought of leaving Keshua.

  Between one blink and another, he was gone.

  She missed him right away, a lot, but she still had the Plete inside of her. “Close as my stomach,” she reminded herself and even smiled a little at the Stalli explanation. Then she stretched, yawned, and gazed about her. During her talk with Keshua, she’d forgotten everything else.

  Lynn still stood on Shagger’s rock, near the tip of the projection that hung over Munta Hill. The sunset was gone and only a few of the lower nightlights showed on the horizon. Clouds were moving over the sky. It would be a dark night. Lynn started forward. She’d better slide down those boulders while there was some light left.

  Going down was easier than climbing up. In a few minutes, she slid down the lowest boulder and landed on the ground. The last of the day’s light had vanished during that last slide, however, and she couldn’t see very well. Where was Aloof One?

  “Aloof One, do you need me to take care of you?” she called in a soft voice.

  I’ll rub her down if I can find some sand—pebbles would work too.

  An answering whinny came from her right, and she turned, a little puzzled, in that direction. The night showed only the shape of her horse, standing over something that did not move.

  “Oh no,” she gasped.

  She’d forgotten about the voice that had shouted when the arrow flew—the arrow that had killed Gefcla.

  Lynn ran towards Aloof One. As she got nearer, she could see that a man lay face down on the ground, and her heart flip-flopped as she approached him. There was something very familiar about that man.

  “Chell, wake up. Can you hear me?” she called out in pain.

  His body was heavy and she was tired, but Lynn managed to tum him over. When his dark brown hair fell over his eyes, she pushed it out of the way. He’d cut his hair unevenly again. His beard was ragged too.

  Typical, but Lynn didn’t really care about the cut of Chell’s hair. Her chest tightened, making it hard to breathe. She forced herself to take a deep breath. Everything was all right. Gefcla was dead, and Keshua would take care of her family. Keshua wanted her to trust him. So do it, she told herself fiercely.

  Chell’s shirt moved slowly up and down as he breathed. Lynn didn’t understand why he’d lost consciousness, but everything was all ri—her eyes suddenly opened wide and she stared into the darkness in front of her.

  The spell!

  Gefcla had given himself over to evil. Lynn remembered that last Stalli meeting when Chell, or was it Erchat, had talked about his self-protecting spell. Any weapon lifted against him withered away into nothing, and whoever wielded the weapon died.

  Lynn had decided such a spell was awful then. She’d not changed her mind since. Lifting a trembling hand to touch Chell’s face, she reminded herself, Lynn does not panic, but the words didn’t keep her hand from trembling.

  She spent several unproductive minutes trying to remember what had happened to Chell’s arrow once it had embedded itself in Gefcla’s chest. Had it withered away? She couldn’t remember clearly, but she thought she’d seen its end sticking out of Gefcla as he fell. Ugh—not a pretty sight. She didn’t like thinking about it, but had the arrow withered away? Had she seen the end of it sticking out of Gefcla’s chest? Was she thinking in circles?

  “Keshua, Healer, hear me. Chell gave the arrow to you after he shot it. It wasn’t Chell’s arrow anymore; it was yours—surely, that’s why it killed the sorcerer. Don’t let Chell die from Gefcla’s spell. Please, don’t. I trust you; I do!”

  Her heart contracted. Keshua didn’t always deliver his people from death. That is, he let them die at some point so they could go live with him.

  “I want to trust you, but I also want Chell to live here on Tarth with me. Please, please.”

  Lynn sat bent over Chell’s body, until a noise somewhere below them made her jump. It was a short crawl to the edge of the hilltop in that direction, but when she got there, all she could see was the beginning of a steep slope going down. Whatever it went down to wasn’t visible. The noise came again, and then a horse neighed below her. Chell must have ridden as far as possible up this side of Munta Hill, dismounted when it got too steep for his horse, and then climbed the rest of the way just in time to shoot the arrow that killed Gefcla.

  Aloof One whinnied back, and Lynn could hear a rustle in the underbrush beneath them. The sound died away, and she shook her head. That couldn’t have been a Stalli mountain horse. A Stalli mountain horse would have made little to no noise at all.

  “I hope you told that horse to get help,” she whispered to Aloof One as she crawled back to Chell.

  He lay in the same state, unconscious but breathing. Lynn cradled his head in her lap this time. Slumping against the rock behind her, she fell asleep.

  Aloof One lowered herself in front of the two humans, trying to shelter them from the breezes. Tarth’s air turned cold during the night at this altitude, even in the summer. Soon the mare dozed too, and the top of Munta Hill lay quiet.

  A couple of hours later, Lynn woke with a start. She didn’t know what had disturbed her, but when she opened her eyes, she saw that Aloof One had raised her head. The mare’s ears pricked in the direction of the path they’d followed to Shagger’s rock.

  Oh no, what now?

  The rumble of a stone rolling down the rocky slope brought mare and girl to their feet. They stared toward the path, lit only vaguely by the nightlights that showed between a mass of clouds. Lynn squinted to see better...not that squinting helped much. A dark figure was moving up the path; that much she could tell, but neither Lynn nor Aloof One could see what shape the figure had. It paused when it got a little closer. Then the dark figure neighed.

  Aloof One threw her head wildly up. She neighed again and again in response, and ran toward the path. When she reached it, a frenzy of greeting erupted. Obviously another horse had arrived, but Lynn would not leave Chell to go and see which horse. Wearily she sat back down and yawned. She felt more tired than before her nap, if that was possible.

  In a few minutes Aloof One led the way toward her, but Lynn didn’t recognize the stallion until he got quite close.

  “Runner,” she mumbled, glad to see someone familiar. “Where did you come from? That wasn’t you down below, was it?”

  Runner ignored her. He lowered his head toward Chell’s inert body and explored his chest with his lips. Moving to Chell’s face, he sniffed several times. As if satisfied, he slowly knelt down and looked at Lynn.

  Lynn looked back without moving. She wasn’t sure she could move. Aloof One’s head appeared at Lynn’s side, nudging her toward Chell.

  “Aloof One, stop it!”

  Both horses snorted at the same time.

  “Okay, I’ll try,” Lynn said without enthusiasm. She yawned again, only more heavily this time.

  Nevertheless, she stood and grabbed Chell’s shoulders. Groaning with the effort, she pulled him across Runner’s back, face down. Then she placed his legs in the right positions, one on either side, and balanced his head on the horse’s neck.

  “This isn’t going to work. He’ll fall off. I’ll have to ride too and hold him on.”

  Runner whinnied briefly, and Lynn climbed onto the big stallion behind Chell. She put her arms around him and clutched the mane as well as she could with her fists.

  “Okay, I’m ready, but get up gently. Oh no. Oof! Tepid tayo tea! He’s sliding—no, I’ve got him.”

  Miraculously they were up.

  “Runner, do you call that gentle?” Lynn complained, too tired to be reasonable.

  Ignoring her again, the stallion walked to the path and began to follow it down the mountain. Aloof One came close behind him, her nose on his flank. Both horses shuddered when they reached the dead hill cats.

  Lynn didn’t shudder, but she breathed easier after they’d gone through the tunnel.

  Her nap must have done some good after all. She aroused enough to feel ashamed of her grumpy attitude. Grabbing at Chell’s body as it slid over to one side, she pulled him to a safe position on Runner’s withers.

  A brisk wind began to blow, clearing the sky of clouds and allowing the nightlights to swirl overhead in their familiar dance. Lynn saw one with an orange tail streaming out behind it and remembered with an aching heart how Chell had tried to show her a nightlight’s orange tail, only three weeks ago. She’d never spotted it, but she’d certainly enjoyed laughing at Chell’s unsuccessful pointing.

  Three weeks ago—it felt like three years. Lynn’s lips curved abruptly downward.

  “Please heal Chell,” she whisper-prayed, but her lips not only stayed down, they began to quiver.

  Lynn tossed her head, brought the corners of her lips back up, and pressed them tightly together to keep them there. Neither head toss nor lip press took away the ache in her heart.

  I’ve met Keshua, she reminded herself. She could still see the love in Keshua’s eyes and feel the warmth of his hug. The Plete’s here too, she thought, but she couldn’t feel his presence. He’s still inside of me, but I don’t know how to get hold of him. Maybe he’s got hold of me.

  “I don’t know what to do,” she whisper-prayed out loud again and waited. Nothing stirred within her—unless the words to one of the Stalli songs counted.

  “Lynn trusts Keshua,” she said out loud and liked the sound of the words. 1’11 make new Lynn statements—later, when I have the energy.

  In a low voice Lynn sang her Stalli song, which talked about Keshua’s strength and goodness. She discovered that her heart didn’t ache as much when she was singing, so when that song ended, she went on to another one; then another. When she couldn’t remember any other songs, Lynn sang the ones she knew all over again. Neither horse minded that her voice cracked and wobbled off tune frequently. They pointed their ears in her direction and walked in time to the songs.

  Steadily they traveled back down that long path. The stallion and mare went slowly, especially on the steep places, but as the hours passed, they made progress.

  Lynn broke off singing in the middle of a song and sniffed.

  Was it possible?

  “The mallowberry thicket,” she called out in delight, her voice hoarse from all the singing. “We’ve reached the mallowberries again.”

  The horses picked up their pace. Soon they turned off the trail into the little pocket of a ravine. Aloof One plunged into the bushes and started gulping down big berries, visible even at night because of their bright orange color.

  Runner sniffed the good berry smell loudly into his nostrils, but before quenching his thirst, he lowered himself to the ground. Chell’s body slid to one side as the stallion sank to his knees. This time, the Stalli man slid out of Lynn’s hands and onto the ground.

  Runner snorted.

  “My arms gave out,” she explained and half slid, half fell off Runner’s back next to Chell.

  Lynn sat where she’d fallen. She didn’t have the energy to stand up. Reaching over to the nearest bushes, she ate all the mallowberries within picking distance, saving a few. Those she put in a little orange heap on the ground next to Chell with the vague idea of squirting their juice into his mouth.

  Fog had started drifting into her mind, making it hard to think straight.

  All at once, the horses stopped eating and faced the path, ears intent and pointing. Something—no, several somethings—were rushing up the path towards them.

  Lynn tried to stand between this new danger and Chell, but her legs refused to move. She scowled at the useless appendages as they sprawled on the ground in front of her. There was only one thing she could think to do. Grabbing a mallowberry in each hand, she held the orange balls tightly, and stared wide-eyed down the path. As soon as she looked in that direction, the somethings lunged out of the darkness.

  The fog in Lynn’s mind thickened. She couldn’t think at all now.

  As the oncoming bodies showed up, dark in the night, she threw her mallowberries at them. Both berries fell to the ground ridiculously short, not that they would have harmed anyone anyway.

  “They’re here!” shouted a voice.

  Lynn heard the words as she keeled over.

  Thirteen

  The Munta Healer

  Lynn couldn’t open her eyes, but that was all right. She didn’t want to open them. Something soft lay next to her cheek, and she reveled in its touch for several minutes. Then she noticed something else nestled up to her throat. It felt soft too, and warm and comfortable. In fact, her whole body felt warm and comfortable.

  She slipped back into sleep, but the knowledge that she was warm and comfortable went with her.

  The next time she woke up, Lynn considered opening her eyes. A breeze had brushed across her face though, and it felt too good to interrupt.

  Hands went under her head and lifted it. The rounded rim of a cup pressed invitingly against her lips. Lynn sipped and swallowed. Broth trickled down her throat. She liked it and swallowed several more times. Okay, she needed to sleep again.

  The third time Lynn came back to consciousness, she opened her eyes. Yellow sunshine wandered into the room between the white curtains of a window. The sunshine drifted to the floor and lay there as if it were a little sleepy itself.

  Lynn’s eyes took their time surveying her new surroundings. A plump pillow caressed one of her cheeks, and a white comforter, tucked up to her neck, covered her. The white curtains and comforter contrasted pleasantly with the room’s dark wooden walls. When a breeze pushed between the curtains, making them sway, she watched their shadows nudge the sleepy sunshine.

  “Are you awake?” asked a voice that crunched like wheels on gravel.

  Turning her head, Lynn saw a Munta woman sitting on the other side of the bed. She knew the woman was Munta because she wore a white dress and had red hair and bright blue eyes.

  Lynn didn’t try to answer the woman’s question, but the older woman nodded as if satisfied.

  “You’re in the Munta castle. I’m Persnip, the chief Munta healer. You’ve slept for days.”

  Lynn had no desire to talk. She didn’t think she could. Her eyelids felt overweight again. They wanted to close, but Lynn needed to know something first.

  “Chell?” she whispered.

  “He woke up after one day in bed. We tried to make him rest longer, but he said he’d never slept that long in his life and he wanted to go.”

  “Where?” Lynn whispered again, an empty look settling in her eyes.

  “Most of Gefcla’s army headed home after the sorcerer died. A few stayed to fight, but our warriors defeated them and then traveled to the Root Forest to free Gefcla’s prisoners and quell any other uprisings. Chell planned to join them.”

  Lynn couldn’t handle all the information. It wafted out of her mind, as if the breeze that had gusted in again between the white curtains was blowing it away. She could only hold onto two things. Chell had gotten better, and Chell had gone.

  Persnip saw her patient’s eyes close and hoped she’d done the right thing in telling Lynn the news. The Munta healer had thought the young woman might worry, but maybe it was too much for her to hear.

  She could have told Lynn that Muntas and Stallis alike sang her praises, but Lynn would find that out soon enough. She might find it a heavy burden to bear; that’s what Persnip believed. People usually wanted praise, but they didn’t necessarily enjoy living with it.

  Two more days passed. Lynn showed no interest in anything but sleeping and eating. Her eyes stayed closed most of the time, but when they were open, they watched the light coming in through the window. Sunrise shone on a chair; daylight traveled in a quiet yellow rectangle across the wooden floor; and sunset glowed on a chest of drawers.

  “I have decided to take you outside,” Persnip announced the third morning,

  “No, I don’t want to,” protested Lynn, but Persnip had made up her mind.

  She dressed the complaining girl in a white Munta dress and pulled her out of the room, down a hall, and into a small secluded garden, where she sat her patient on a low wall beside a fountain.

  “Are all Tarth healers stubborn, opinionated, bossy people or is it only the two I’ve met?” Lynn asked, glowering at her.

  Persnip responded with a nod. “That’s good. You’re getting your spirit back. I’ll leave you alone for a while and bring you a drink later.”

  Lynn frowned at the healer’s departing back but what was the point in keeping up her bad mood after Persnip had gone. Besides, she liked this garden.