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“Three times, then. This other man thought—that he would never see you again unless you met on the other side.”
“The other side?”
“I don’t know where that is.”
“I know,” Hathui whispered hoarsely. Even in lamplight, with shadows thrown helter-skelter by the sway of the lamp, it was easy to see how the blood had drained from her face. “My grandmother was an unrepentant heathen. Even after she professed to enter the Circle of Unity she still set out offerings for the Old Ones. You said Hugh is a murderer three times. What did you mean?”
“It was no one I had ever met, but I felt a kinship with him. He was seeking the same thing I seek. The heart of the universe. His name …” So much had happened so quickly; the spell had overwhelmed her. She had grasped his name, but she could not remember it.
“It must have been Zacharias!” murmured Hathui, weeping. “Is he dead, then? Truly dead?”
“Yes. I felt him die, through the spell. Who is he?”
Hathui sank to the carpet as she sobbed. Liath knelt beside her, resting a hand on her shoulder, but she was helpless to comfort her.
“M-my brother. Ai, God. How? How?”
“Hugh of Austra was part of Anne’s weaving.”
“You destroyed the spell by killing Holy Mother Anne.”
“No. I killed Anne, it’s true. I did my part. But I had allies, whose names I do not know. It was the plan made by the ancient ones. I was only the final weapon they unleashed. Zacharias did his part as well. How they came in contact with him I do not know, but in the end he cast himself into the crown that Hugh was weaving. Northeast of here, somewhere out beyond the marchlands. Because of what he did, the entire northern span of the weaving was knotted and tangled and thereby ruined.”
“Zacharias did that?” Hathui gasped through her tears.
Not alone, Liath thought, but she hesitated. Others had done their part. Pale creatures erupting out of paler sands had consumed Brother Severus. An Eika prince had killed the pair of clerics weaving the crown in Alba.
“Zacharias accepted death, to save what he loved most.”
For a long time they remained without moving, Hathui weeping, Liath beside her, wishing she knew what words of comfort would ease Hathui’s grief but keeping silence, because silence was all she had to offer. A gust of wind rocked the tent, and long after it had departed the lantern’s metal handle squeaked softly against the wooden pole as it swung back and forth, back and forth, the light cresting and troughing in the corners until at last the motion stilled.
“Ai, God,” Hathui breathed. “So he is gone. Truly gone. Oh, Zacharias. He was probably afraid.”
“We’re all afraid. What lies within us can be as fearful a thing as all those terrors that lie without. He had courage when he needed it.”
“That is enough,” said Hathui through her tears. She sat back on her heels and placed a hand over Liath’s. “I’ll stand by you, Liath, whatever comes.”
“Will you stand by Sanglant?”
“He has already won my loyalty.”
“Then I accept your offer gladly, Hathui, and I’ll tell you, there is none I value more.”
Hathui’s gaze narrowed as she examined Liath’s face. “Did you know your eyes shine when it’s dark? I never noticed that before. It’s like a touch of blue fire. What lies within you, truly, Liath?”
“Power enough,” said Liath softly, “that I am afraid of what it can do if let go unchecked.”
“No!” said Sanglant from outside, clearly annoyed, “but let word be brought to me at once if there is any news.”
Liath stood. Sanglant entered, and indeed he looked mightily irritated. Then he saw Hathui. He knelt at once to set a hand on her shoulder.
“What is this? Have you come to some hurt?”
“No, Your Majesty. Liath recalled a vision she had. She knows what became of my brother.”
“Brother Zacharias?”
“Yes. He is dead.”
