The Sorcerer's Plague

Chapter 15

How many villages is it now?"

Pyav's expression was grim as he regarded Tashya, as if he didn't wish even to answer her question. "At least three," he said at last. "We know of outbreaks in Runnelwick, Greenrill, and Tivston. There's no telling where else it's struck."

"And these are all Qirsi villages?"

"Runnelwick and Greenrill are Y'Qatt," Marivasse said. "As for Tivston…" She trailed off into a fit of coughing, and it seemed to Besh that the other elders leaned back in their chairs, afraid to breathe in the same air as the old woman. After a time, her spasm subsided and she wiped at her mouth with an old cloth. "I know nothing about Tivston," she said hoarsely.

For the fourth or fifth time this day, the eight of them lapsed into silence. Most of them watched Pyav, waiting for him to tell them what was to be done. Besh could hear voices in the marketplace. A baby cried. One of the dogs that sometimes wandered through the village began to bark, only to be hushed by a sharp word from someone in the lane outside the sanctuary. But inside, no one spoke.

Besh had been up much of the previous night, reading through Sylpa's daybook. He stifled a yawn now and shivered. The sun shone outside, but it had been a clear, cold night and chill air still lingered in the chamber.

He'd found nothing new for all the reading he'd done by candlelight in Lici's abandoned hut. After learning the previous day that Lici first came to Kirayde because her home village of Sentaya had been devastated by the pestilence, he'd hoped that Sylpa's journal would quickly reveal the remaining secrets of Lici's past. Instead, much to Besh's frustration, Sylpa had stopped pushing the girl for more information. It almost seemed that she was as reluctant to hear more about those dark events as the young girl was to speak of them.

And now that the pestilence had come to the plains, Besh could no longer afford the luxury of simply enjoying Sy1pa's narrative. For more than half a turn, he had been living in two times: his own, and Sy1pa's. Now, though, the exigencies of his own life were forcing him to step out of hers. He needed to know things that she had yet to learn.

"It may be that we have nothing to fear," said Korr, another of the elders. "Each of those villages is to the west of the wash."

Tashya shook her head. "That means nothing. The pestilence can't be held back by rivers or mountains or city walls. We may be safe now, but all it takes is a single stranger-a peddler, a bard, even a soldier."

"So, what would you have us do?" Pyav asked, drawing the woman's gaze.

"Close the village to all outsiders."

Several of the elders voiced their disapproval, but Tashya didn't pause. She merely raised her voice so that she could still be heard.

"Shut down the marketplace and have every peddler who doesn't live here escorted out of the village. And then post guards on all the roads leading into Kirayde. The only way to keep the pestilence out is to make an island of our home."

"Even that might not work," Besh said. "I don't necessarily disagree with what you're proposing, but you should know that it might not do any good."

"I know that," Tashya said. "That's a risk I'm willing to take."

"People have crops they want to sell," Korr said. He was one of the older members of the council, nearly as old as Marivasse, though like her, he remained spry and sharp of mind. He'd made his living as a miller before passing his business on to his son, Ojan. He was nearly bald, with a narrow band of white hair on the back of his head. He stood a full head taller than Besh, though with his stooped back and rounded shoulders, he didn't look nearly as imposing as he had as a younger man. "Ojan has flour to sell. What is he supposed to do? Where's their gold supposed to come from?"

Tashya shrugged. "They'll have to make do for a while. Not forever, perhaps not even for a full turn. Just until this outbreak has run its course."

"But this is the Harvest," Korr said. "In another turn, the weather will have turned too cold. Some will lose their crops. And who's to say that when we're ready to open our village to trade again, the peddlers will want to come back?" He shook his head. "We can't do this. Too many will suffer."

"Better to lose their gold than their children!" Tashya said, anger flashing in her bright green eyes.

Besh had seen Tashya's hard stare cow men far more certain of themselves than the old miller. Korr was overmatched, and he appeared to know it. He eyed her a moment longer, then looked away without saying anything more.

"What about the rest of you?" Pyav said, looking around the chamber. "Are there any other suggestions short of shutting down the marketplace?"

"Not just the marketplace," Tashya said. "If we merely keep out peddlers while letting others in, we accomplish nothing."

A wry smile touched the eldest's lips. "My pardon. Any other suggestions aside from closing the lanes into the village?"

Tashya nodded her approval.

"What about you, Marivasse?" Pyav asked. "You're our herbmistress. Surely you have some ideas."

But the old woman shook her head. "I've yet to find a tonic that could contend with the pestilence, and I've yet to meet a Mettai sorcerer powerful enough to stave off the disease with blood and blade." She glanced Tashya's way. "I don't particularly like Tashya's solution, but I don't see that we have any choice."

Pyav looked at Besh, who gave a slight shake of his head. The eldest frowned.

"I'll consider this," Pyav said, turning back to Tashya.

"What's to consider?" she demanded. "We know that the pestilence is killing people only a few leagues from here. We have to do something immediately."

"It's more than a few leagues, Tashya."

She started to say more, but Pyav raised a hand and she fell silent. Korr might have been afraid of her, but the eldest was not.

"You may be right. It may come to this. But Korr makes a good point as well. The Snows are corning, and people in this village need gold to get through. Closing Kirayde to peddlers is a last resort. But the first we hear of outbreaks on this side of the Silverwater, we'll do it."

"And what if we're the first?"

"I'm hoping we won't be."

There was nothing she could say to that, and a few moments later the council adjourned.

A few of the elders continued their discussion outside, gathering in a small knot near the door to the sanctuary. But Besh started away immediately, intending to return to Lici's house and Sy1pa's journal.

"Besh, wait a moment."

He stopped and turned. Tashya was striding toward him, her black hair shimmering in the morning sunlight. Despite the ghosts who hovered at each shoulder-Sylpa and his beloved Ema-he couldn't help but think that Tashya was the most beautiful woman he'd ever met. Even now, well past her tenth four, she remained as lovely as she'd been in her youth.

Besh expected her to speak to him of their discussion in the council, but she surprised him.

"You're on your way to Lici's," she said, a statement, not a question.

"Yes. If

She nodded once. "Pyav has told me what you're looking for." "He thinks I'm wasting my time."

"I don't," she said. "And while the eldest may think there's little of use to be found in Sylpa's daybook, he admires you for making the effort. He told me so."

It was rare for Tashya to show so much kindness. Not that she was a bad person, but she didn't often take the time to speak so to anyone. Besh wondered where all of this was leading.

As was her way, she wasted no time in making her point. Once again, though, she surprised him, this time by suddenly growing uncomfortable, even shy.

"I'm wondering," she said, her gaze dropping. "Have you found any mention of my father in Sylpa's journal?"

"Your father?"

"His name was Menfyn."

"Yes, I remember him," Besh said.

She looked up at that, her eyes sparkling like emeralds. Lovely indeed. "You do?"

"Of course. He was an elder. And more to the point, his was the finest garden in the village year after year, much to my father's annoyance."

She laughed, but quickly grew serious again. "He was also… well, there was talk After my mother died. Talk about Sylpa and him."

Understanding at last, Besh shook his head. "I've found nothing like that."

"You're certain?"

"Yes. I promise."

She nodded, looking both relieved and disappointed, if that was possible.

"When I was younger, I didn't want to believe it was true. But later, after I lost my husband, I started to realize how selfish I'd been. I almost wish…" She looked away again, and laughed, but it sounded forced. "I don't know what I wish."

"If I find anything, I'll tell you. You have my word."

She met his gaze once more. "Thank you, Besh." She smiled briefly and walked away, leaving Besh alone in the lane thinking what a powerful thing memory could be. When Lici first disappeared, everyone in the village had been so concerned about her gold. But Besh was no longer certain that her bag of coins was the greatest treasure the old woman had left behind.

Smiling at the thought, he returned to the house, pulled out the old daybook, and began to thumb through it. He quickly skimmed over several entries that followed those he'd read the previous night and saw little of interest. Then there was a bit of a gap during which Sylpa wrote nothing at all. But the opening lines of the entry following this gap caught his eye.

Hunter's Moon, first day of the waxing, 1147.

I've been remiss about writing recently. The Harvest is always a busy time, and this year's Harvest brought storms that flooded the rill and destroyed several homes. But something interesting happened today, and it may shed more light on all that's befallen Licaldi.

It was a cold day, the coldest we've had since last year's Snows. But the sun was shining, and with the garden plot all but empty, Licaldi and I had little that we needed to do. I've been promising her new clothes for the colder turns that are soon to come, and so we took this day to return to the marketplace.

She loves the market. Given the chance I believe she would spend her entire day wandering among the peddlers' carts, simply looking at their wares and seeing how far she can get them to lower their prices. She likes cloth and often encourages me to buy a bolt of something with bright colors and intricate patterns that we might use to make pillows for chairs or covers for what little furniture we have in our house. She likes baubles, as well-shiny blades, too small and ornate to have any practical use, or wood boxes carved by the clans of the western woodlands. If she had her way, the house would be filled with these, and we'd barely have room to sit, much less cook and sleep.

The other thing she loves to do is weave. I've taught her a bit about basketry, and she's taken to it so quickly that I find myself wondering if she'd already learned the craft from someone in Sentaya. I haven't asked her, nor have I noticed her becoming sad or withdrawn when we weave. It may just be that she has a penchant for the work.

Today we took some baskets to the market-mostly mine, but one that she made, simple in design, but tightly woven. She was quite proud of it and wanted to see how much we could get for it.

The marketplace was particularly crowded today. With the Snows approaching, and the storms finally over it seems that peddlers are flocking to the villages of the northern plains, hoping to line their pockets with our gold before the weather drives them to the shores of the Ofirean.

We found a Qirsi merchant with whom I'd done business before, and tried to trade our baskets for a bolt of blue and red cloth. He refused, and when Licaldi asked him why, he pulled several baskets from his cart. They were of very good quality-some of the finest I've seen-and I asked him where he'd found them.

"West of here," he said. "I traded for them in an Y'Qatt village in Fal'Borna land."

Licaldi actually dropped the box she was looking at. Fortunately it landed on a bolt of cloth, but she didn't appear to notice or care. "What did you say?" "Licaldi, what is it?" I asked.

But she ignored me, keeping her green eyes fixed on the Qirsi trader. "I got them from the Y'Qatt," he said again.

"What does that mean?" she asked, her voice rising. "That word: Y'Qatt. What does it mean?"

"Surely you've heard of the Y'Qatt," I said.

But she shook her head, looking my way at last. Her eyes were wide and the color had drained from her cheeks-signs I'd learned to understand over these past few turns. This had something to do with the tragedy that brought her to me.

"They're Qirsi," the merchant said, looking from me to the girl. "Sorcerers who refuse to use magic."

“Why?”

He shrugged. "I'm not sure I can explain. Most of the rest of us think they're fools. I think they believe that Qirsar never intended for us Qirsi to use our magic. They think that's why magic shortens our lives."

"So they never use it for anything?"

He shook his head. "Nothing that I know of."

"Licaldi, what's this about?"

But she wouldn't answer me. For another several moments she stared at the box she had dropped, saying nothing. Then she simply turned and walked out of the marketplace. I could see that she was headed back to our house, and having learned that I couldn't force her to reveal anything she wanted to keep secret, I didn't bother to follow.

Later when I returned to the house, I found her chopping ramsroot for supper. She seemed in a fine mood, and when I asked about her conversation with the Qirsi merchant, she acted as though she couldn't remember what they had discussed. I know better, of course. She remembers everything. But I didn't push her

It is another mystery-one among so many. Yet, I'm certain that we're getting closer Soon, very soon, I'll hear the rest of her dark tale. And no doubt, upon hearing it, I'll wonder why I was ever so eager for the truth.

Another gap followed: more than twenty days to Sylpa's next entry. That one told Besh nothing, nor did the next two. But at last, in the third after this second gap, he found what he'd been seeking.

Memory Moon, fourth day of the waxing, 1147.

It snowed again today, small, sharp flakes that stung like blown sand when the wind raged. I can hear the storm still. The snow scratches like claws at my door and walls, and the wind howls like some wild beast loosed upon Elined's earth by Bian himself.

But we've plenty of wood piled by the hearth, and the house is warm enough. I had to venture out briefly to see the herbmistress, and even after I'd returned and been inside for an hour or two, I still felt that I'd never be warm again. But blankets, and a fire and a warm cup of tea have warmed me once more.

Licaldi is asleep now, though she lay awake for a long time, and her sleep has been fitful. Her fever has yet to break and her face looks pale and thin. Three days she's been ill and I have to admit that I fear for her The healer say_s she'll be fine, that if it was something truly dangerous she would have grown far worse by now, but still I worry. And why shouldn't I? I know now beyond doubt that she is alone in the world except for me. More, I know that I would be lost without her We are bound to one another for as long as I shall live. And at last, after today, I know how this came to be.

Throughout the day, the poor girl had convinced herself that she was dying, that this fever was kin to the one that struck her village, and would be the end of her I tried to tell her that this wasn't so and that she'd soon be well and running around the house as she usually did. But the scars from her past run deep, and she was inconsolable. And in the midst of her despair, she decided that the time had come to tell me all that she had been keeping from me. Though I tried to reassure her about her prospects for recovery, I did nothing to dissuade her in this regard, and so at last I have heard her story.

It is as dark a tale as I imagined it would be, and it explains so much that has come before. Licaldi swore me to secrecy, though I tried to tell her that she need not be ashamed or feel guilty. But I write it all down here-in her own words as best as I can remember them-lest she wish to share her secret with another someday without having to endure the pain of relating it again herself

"I was at the river most of that day," she began, staring up at our ceiling, tears flowing from the corners of her eyes and wetting the pillow on which her head rested. "I'd done my chores early, and was at the river, fishing with my friend Sosli. Even after she went home, because she was hungry, I stayed at the river. It was such a nice day, and I had no other chores to do." She looked at me then. "So, I didn't know. I swear it. I didn't know."

"It's all right, child," I told her smoothing her hair, which was damp with sweat. "I believe you."

"After a while I got hungry," she went on, crying still. "And it seemed late, and I was wondering why Mama hadn't called for me yet. So, I walked home, carrying my fish. I'd caught three, and I was so proud. I wanted to show Papa, 'cause he'd taught me." She smiled faintly through her tears, but then appeared to catch herself, and grew serious once more. "That's when I found out they were sick.

"Your family?"

She nodded. "Mama, Papa, Kytha, Baetri. And others as well. Nearly everyone in the village. I even think Sosli got sick."

"Were they…? How bad off were they?"

"They weren't dead yet, if that's what you mean. I only saw Mama. She was outside in front of the house… I think she'd just thrown up. And I could hear Kytha and Baet crying in the house.

"I started running to Mama, but she yelled at me to stop. She said I couldn't come in the house, or even get near it, or else I'd get sick, too. She asked me if I felt all right, and I said I did. I asked her what it was-what was wrong with her I think I knew already, but I was hoping that I was wrong. But then she said it was the pestilence, and I knew that all of us were going to die.

"Except I didn't get sick. I sat outside the house, listening to my sisters crying, and waiting for the pestilence to get me, too, but it didn't. Papa came out at one point and talked to me. I think he was trying to pretend that everything was fine. He asked me about the fishing, and said nice things about the ones I'd caught. But he didn't come near me and he didn't look good. He was sweating, and his face looked grey, and there was sick on the front of his shirt.

"I asked him if I could come in the house and help them, but he said that Mama was right, that I had to stay outside. I asked him where the healers were, and he said that he'd sent for a healer but with so many people sick it would take time for her to get there. He said that Mettai magic wasn't strong enough to help us, but they'd sent someone south to one of the Fal'Borna settlements along the wash, hoping that the Qirsi would send healers. Qirsi magic might work, even against the pestilence.

"So I waited some more. It started to get dark, and still no one came. And then I started to hear thunder and the sky started to cloud over and I got scared. I don't like thunder, and I wanted to go inside. But Mama still said that I couldn't. I couldn't hear my sisters anymore, and I was afraid they were dead already, but Mama promised me that they weren't, that they were just sleeping, which was good for them. But she was getting worse, and so was Papa. I could tell. And no healers were coming, and it started getting windy and colder

"So finally, Mama said that I should go south to the Qirsi and bring back healers. She told me that probably whoever had been sent before hadn't made it there. Probably he'd gotten sick like the rest and hadn't been able to go on. But I wasn't getting sick, and she didn't think that I would. So, I should go. I could save the village, she said. I could be everyone's hero. Papa came out and made me a torch. He took care not to touch the part I'd be holding, and he lit it for me, so that I wouldn't have to go inside to the fire. They told me to run to the marketplace and shout to everyone what I was going to do, so they'd know that someone was getting help for them. And then they said I should go as quickly as I could because storms were coming, and people in the village were getting worse.

"I was crying, 'cause I didn't want to leave them. But I did what they told me to do. I ran to the marketplace and shouted, and then I left Sentaya and walked to the Fal'Borna settlements. I had my torch, but it was starting to rain. The wind was blowing hard, and I was cold and the lightning and thunder scared me. And it was so dark."

She started to cry again, great sobs escaping her until she could barely breathe, and I tried to comfort her, telling her that it was all right, and that anyone would have been scared. But she shook her head. She even pushed me away, which she almost never does.

"You don't understand," she said. "I went to the bridge-there's an old stone bridge near Sentaya. It crosses the Silverwater into Qirsi land."

"N'Kiel's Span?" I said.

She looked at me with wonder "Yes! That's what it called! You've heard of it?"

Any other night and I would have laughed at such a question. If she had known more of the history of the Blood Wars, she would have realized that many people in the land knew of it. In the final years of the wars, as the Fal'Borna continued their push eastward, battles were fought for control of the span. Men and women died trying to destroy it, or capture it, or keep others from using it. It was probably the most famous-or infamous-bridge in all the Southlands. With the wars over the span has lost much of its importance. It's used occasionally by peddlers, but there are few important towns anywhere near it, and I don't think it's even guarded anymore. But at least now I knew where Sentaya was.

"Yes," I said. "I've heard of it."

"That's right near my-" She broke off, looking stricken, and for a long time she said nothing at all. When at last she began again, it was in a low voice. "That was how I got across the Silverwater. And then I started going toward the nearest of the Fal'Borna settlements."

Her cheeks colored and she turned away from me. "Or I thought I did." I could barely hear her "You mean you didn't?"

She started crying again. "I walked a long way before I realized it. There's lots of trees there. It's mostly forest along the wash. And the storm was coming on me, and I didn't know for such a long time. But finally…" She broke off again, unable to speak for her sobbing.

I said nothing, though I took her hand, which she suffered me to hold, and I waited.

"Finally, I realized that the wash was on my right, not my left. That's how it had been before I crossed the bridge, so I didn't think anything of it at first. But then I realized it, and I knew. I'd gone north instead of south."

She cried and cried, but eventually she managed to go on. "I probably should have turned back, but it seemed like I'd gone such a long way, and I didn't know if maybe there was another Fal'Borna settlement to the north. There might have been. I've heard that they move around a lot, so it was possible. And I didn't know if maybe it was close by, and by turning around I was just going to make things worse than they already were. So, I kept going. I still didn't find anything, but then I was even more certain that I didn't want to turn around. I didn't know what to do. I just wanted to sit down and cry.

"My torch was starting to die, and I didn't know what to do. And then the path went up a big hill, and just as I reached the top there was a flash of lightning, and I saw that I'd found a village after all. I was so happy, I just ran toward the houses, shouting as loudly as I could and waving the torch over my head. I didn't know what town it was, but I didn't really care. I just shouted and shouted until people started opening their doors and looking out at me.

"I told them that I needed help. I said that the pestilence had come to our village and everyone was sick and we needed Qirsi healers. I remembered it all, everything Mama and Papa told me to say.

"But instead of saying they'd help me, they told me to leave their village. said it all again, or at least I tried to, but they cut me off and said I had to leave right away, that they were Y'Qatt and they couldn't help me." She looked at me, her eyes brimming yet again. "I didn't know what that meant. They kept on saying that they were Y'Qatt and that they wouldn't do anything to help me. And I didn't understand. I kept on asking them, begging them. I told them my mama and papa were dying. But they wouldn't do anything.

"'We're Y'Qatt. You've brought the pestilence to an Y'Qatt village.' That's what they said, again and again."

"It's not their way to use magic," I said, trying to explain, though I'm not certain why I bothered.

Licaldi glared at me, as i f I were the one denying her pleas for help. "They threatened to kill me," she said.

"What?"

"When I wouldn't leave, they said they'd kill me. They said they had to, to protect themselves."

I just stared at her, unable to believe that even the Y'Qatt would go to such lengths to avoid using their magic.

She scowled at me, looking so hurt that I still shudder to think of it. "You don't believe me. I can remember exactly what the man said. The pestilence is just as deadly for us as it is for you. More so, because we're Qirsi. Now if you don't leave us immediately, we'll have no choice but to kill you and burn your body. We have bowmen here; men who can kill you from a distance if necessary.'

Then he called to a man named Fikar, who stepped out of his house holding a bow. He'd already nocked an arrow in it."

She eyed me again, that same pained look on her face. "You still don't believe me."

"Yes, I do," I said. And I did. Horrible as it was, I believed every word of it. "What did you do then?"

Licaldi shook her head and closed her eyes. "There was nothing to do. I said something terrible to them and I left." She opened her eyes again, though she wouldn't look directly at me. She seemed spent now, tired beyond tears. "My torch died on the way home, but I managed to find my way without it. I think it was raining still. I don't know for certain. I remember there was more lightning and thunder, but the rest…" She shrugged.

"And when you reached the village?" I asked.

She stared up at the ceiling. She shed no tears now, and when she spoke again her voice was flat. "It was too late. Mama was at the river Papa, Kytha, and Baet were in the house. But they were… they were all dead. I think everyone in the village died that night. All because I went the wrong way. And all because the Y'Qatt wouldn't help me."

"Anyone could have made that mistake, Licaldi. On a night like that, with your family sick and a storm blowing, anyone could have gone north instead of south."

"They were depending on me, and I failed. And because of that, they're all dead."

"You're just a girl!" I said, feeling tears on my own face. "You're eight years _old. You're too young to bear such burdens. You need to find a way to forgive yourself"

She met my gaze then, looking too sad and too wise for her years. "If it was you, could you forgive yourself?"

I had no answer, and for a long time neither of us spoke. Finally, I asked her, "What was it you said to the Y'Qatt?"

Licaldi closed her eyes again. "Do I have to tell you?"

"Of course not, child. I was just asking." I leaned forward and kissed her forehead, which still felt hot. "I think you'll be better in the morning," I said, wanting it to be true. "You should rest now."

She nodded.

I got up, crossed to my bed, and picked up this journal, intending to write down all she'd told me. But as I sat, she spoke my name. Looking at her I saw that her eyes were open again, shining with the light of candles.

"I told the Y'Qatt that I hoped the pestilence would come to their village," she said. "I told them I wanted them all to die."

Perhaps I should have scolded her. It was an evil thought, even for a child who must have been so angry and desperate and forlorn. But I merely nodded, thinking to myself that I probably would have said much the same thing.

So, now she sleeps, and I write, having learned at last all there is to know of her tragic tale. I am hopeful that as her fever fades and she grows strong again, she will be better off for having unburdened herself But it is only a hope. She is so young to have seen and lived such horrors. It is said among our people that where a healer's touch fails, time works its own magic. Some wounds, though, can never heal. Instead they fester

It remains to be seen which kind of wound fate has dealt this child.

Besh sat back and laid the daybook aside. Any doubt that had crept into his mind over the past turn was gone now. Lici was alive. He was certain of it. And more, she was wreaking vengeance across the land.

Sixty-four years to the day after she appears in the village, the old woman vanishes. And within a turn of her disappearance the pestilence strikes at three Qirsi villages, at least two of them Y'Qatt. He stood and strode out the door into the midday sun. Walking quickly to the marketplace, he found a Qirsi trader, a young woman who was selling wines from the Nid'Qir.

"Buy a skin today, good sir?" she asked, smiling at him.

"No, thank you. Tell me, though: Have you ever heard of a town called Tivston?"

"Tivston?" she repeated, frowning. She shook her head and made the warding sign against evil, as if she were Mettai instead of Qirsi. "I know Tivston. It's very bad there now."

"Yes, I've heard. Is it a Qirsi village?"

"In a sense, yes," she said.

And he knew. Even before she could say anything more, he felt the hairs on his neck and arms standing on end.

"They're Y'Qatt in Tivston; Qirsi who use no magic."

Besh nodded. "Thank you." He started to walk away.

"Of course, good sir. Perhaps now you'd like to buy some wine."

He knew he should have, out of courtesy if nothing else. She'd answered his questions, and so had told him the last thing he needed to know before speaking of this with Pyay. But the thought of taking even a sip of wine just then made his stomach turn. He merely shook his head and walked to the eldest's smithy.

Pyav was resting when Besh got there, his face ruddy as always and covered with a fine sheen of sweat.

"You're early today," the smith said, grinning as Besh approached. But then he seemed to notice the old man's expression. His smile vanished and he stood. "What is it?"

"I know where Lici is. Or at least where she's been."

Pyav's brow creased. "What do you mean?"

"I told you that her village was ravaged by the pestilence. It killed her family. It killed everyone she knew."

"Yes, I remember."

"It seems there was more to the story," Besh said. "She went for help. She was looking for Qirsi healers, but instead she found an Y'Qatt village. 1)

The eldest winced. "And they wouldn't help her." "That's right."

"But what does that-?"

"Runnelwick and Greenrill-they're near N'Kiel's Span, aren't they?"

"I believe so." Comprehension hit him like a fist. "Blood and bone," he whispered.

"I just spoke with a Qirsi peddler. Tivston is an Y'Qatt village, as _well. At least it was."

"A conjuring?"

"Perhaps. Probably. Would it surprise you to learn that she could use her magic that way?"

"I suppose not." The eldest stared at the ground for a few moments, shaking his head slowly. "I wouldn't know how to do it. Would you?" "I couldn't even begin to conceive such a thing."

Pyav glanced at him, a sad smile on his lips. "And yet you figured it out. At least you think you have. Perhaps the workings of your mind are darker than you think."

Besh nodded, though he didn't smile in return. "Perhaps. They'll have to be if I'm to find a way to stop her."