The Horsemen's Gambit

Chapter 25

Cresenne knew as soon as the dream began that it was Grinsa, stepping into her dreams as only a Weaver could. She found herself standing on the familiar moorland where she had dreamed of him so many times before, and she turned a quick circle, searching for him.

Seeing nothing, she felt fear grip her heart.

"Grinsa?" she called, taking hold of her magic to ward herself in case some other Weaver had come, intending to do her harm.

But an instant later she heard her beloved's voice.

"It's me," he said. "It's all right."

She spotted him then, sitting on the grassy plain. He looked terrible, worse than she had ever seen him. His face looked haggard and deathly pale.

Cresenne ran to him and dropped to her knees. "What's happened?" she asked, panic rising within her like a storm tide. "Are you all right?"

He smiled and nodded, looking so terribly weak. "Yes. I'm fine now. I was sick."

"Sick? What kind…?" Her eyes widened. "You mean the plague, don't you?"

"Yes."

"But how-?"

The smile returned. "Besh healed me. He and Sirj healed both of us, actually. Q'Daer had it, too. But Besh created a spell that defeated Lici's curse."

"Gods be praised." She put her arms around him and kissed his forehead. "It's still spreading though, isn't it?"

"In a way, yes." He told her about Torgan and the scrap of basket the merchant had used against Q'Daer.

"After all you've risked for him," she said, shaking her head. "Forgive me for saying this, Grinsa, but a man like that-he doesn't deserve to live."

"I'm inclined to agree with you. Q'Daer would like nothing more than to kill him with his bare hands."

"He should."

"He can't," Grinsa said. "Torgan's gone. He killed Jasha, and he left. He still has that scrap of basket."

"Demons and fire. So it's still out there. Even if the plague has run its course, he's still got a way of spreading it."

Grinsa nodded. But then he smiled. "You're safe, though."

"None of us is safe, Grinsa."

"Actually," he said, brushing a strand of hair from her brow, "you are now. Besh was very clever with his spell. He made it contagious, just like Lici did. By touching your magic with mine, I've made you immune. You can do the same for Bryntelle. Touch her with your healing magic. That should do it. Q'Daer is speaking with E'Menua right now. Soon everyone in the sept will be safe."

She smiled, then let out a small laugh. "That's amazing. I hope I get a chance to meet these Mettai you're traveling with. I think I'd like them."

"I'm sure you would."

They sat in silence for several moments.

"You've heard there's war coming," she said at last.

Grinsa nodded. "We heard yesterday. I think that's why Torgan did what he did. He'd been carrying that piece of basket for a long time."

"So you're coming back?"

He smiled. "Yes. We're still half a turn away, maybe more. But we've already started heading south."

Suddenly there were tears in her eyes. "I've missed you so much."

He wiped a tear from her cheek, concern etched in his face. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, we're fine. I'll just be glad to have you back."

"That makes two of us."

"Three, really," she said smiling, despite her tears. "Bryntelle misses you, too."

He grinned, then kissed her.

"I should sleep," he said. "We'll ride later today, but we've had a long night."

"Of course. I love you."

"And I love you."

She felt that he was about to leave her dream, and she said his name, stopping him, though she wasn't certain what she wanted to say.

He gazed back at her, a question in his eyes. After a moment, though, he seemed to understand. He leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the lips.

"We'll be careful," he said.

The next moment she was awake, blinking in the pale grey light of early morning. She stretched, looked over at Bryntelle, who was still asleep on her small pallet.

Cresenne sat up and watched the child sleep for several moments. Then she took hold of her power and touched the child with healing magic. Bryntelle stirred, her eyes fluttering open briefly. Then, with a soft sigh, she settled back into her slumber.

"There you go, love," Cresenne whispered. "That's a gift from your father."